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“I want this one,” I say, approaching it like a wild deer. I’m afraid to touch it.
“Check the size and find one you can try on,” he replies, his voice oozing approval. “I’d love to see you in it.”
I have to touch the dress to check the tag, but I’m scared it’ll dissolve in my hand. It can’t be that delicate because someone has to wear it, but I’ve never shopped here before. A dress this stunning is foreign to me.
I expect the fabric to be cold like metal, but as my fingers brush it, it’s surprisingly neutral, like it’s not really there at all. It’s like running my fingers through smoke.
The tag is a narrow piece of cardstock attached to the dress with a small thread. I flip it over, expecting a few thousand dollars, but I’m blown away to discover the dress costs over fifty-thousand dollars.
“Holy shit,” I whisper to myself before I remember I’m checking the size, not the price. If Pasha wants to drain his bank account for me, I’m not going to stop him.
“I think this is actually my size,” I say, trying to do the math on the Italian size. “Yeah, it should fit.”
A subtle smile dancing across his mouth. “Try it on.”
I look around the store, which has no people aside from a woman at the register. “Can I?”
“The dressing room is there,” Pasha says, gesturing toward an archway a few yards over. “Come out and show me when you have it on, and if it fits you, I’ll buy it.”
I feel a bit guilty, like I should warn him of the price, but I refrain from feeling sorry for Pasha. He’s doing this to himself. He never had to come down on me like some knight in shining armor. He could’ve approached me differently, and I’d be just as attracted to him.
The dress slides off the rack with an angelic metallic ping, and I carry it to the dressing room like it’s cotton candy in the rain. I’m paranoid that something’s going to happen to it, even as I undress and put it on.
It’s been a long time since I felt such genuine excitement. It almost makes me forget that the reason I left my apartment this afternoon was to meet with a dealer to buy cocaine. He’s going to be pissed when he discovers I went out shopping instead.
But any distraction is a welcome distraction when it comes to that drug. For one, it’s expensive, and what should be the first reason but isn’t, it’s terrible for you. Not to mention that because of how dirty street drugs can be, there’s a fair chance I’m going to stumble on fentanyl by accident and die.
I used to think flirting with death was okay, but since I met Pasha, things have changed. My life has a new sense of adventure. Plus, I know he’d be furious if he knew I was still doing coke. He’s the only person in my life who has ever told me to stop.
And when Pasha says something, he means every word.
But all that’s forgettable for the moment when I see the fifty-thousand-dollar dress draped over my body. The way it pours over my curves is almost vulgar, inviting a sense of sexual decadence that’s simply unachievable through other means. I’mstunned by the way I look, my cheeks burning hot at the idea of having to appear in front of Pasha like this.
I stare at myself in the mirror, turning around in circles until I’ve made myself dizzy. Where would I wear something like this? I’d get far too much attention in it. It’d be impossible to walk down the street in public without a fleet of bodyguards.
It takes several minutes for me to work up enough courage to leave the dressing room and show Pasha. My heart is hammering painfully in my chest as I step out, head down and hands clasped as I show Pasha what he’s promised to buy me.
“Oh my God, Valerie, you look like magnificent. Oh, my heart. I can’t take this,” Pasha gushes, cupping a tattooed hand over his chest. “You are… an angel.”
My blush turns into a burning wave of heat. My cheeks are so hot that I feel like I’m sunburned, and my ears probably have steam rising from them. “You like it?” I ask softly.
“Yes, my darling, you are so beautiful. That dress is for you. No questions asked. They made that just for you.”
A nervous laugh slips from my mouth, which I cover quickly with my hand to prevent it from turning into an embarrassing cackle. I rush back to the dressing room, eager to look like a normal person again, but equally as enthusiastic to stare at myself in the mirror for another few minutes before I have to take off the dress.
Pasha is right. This looks incredible on me.
I come back out of the dressing room with the beautiful dress dangling from the hanger, handing it to Pasha for fear of messing it up on the way to the register. It’s all so silly, I know,but Pasha is comfortable in this environment. I’m new and scared of everything.
As the woman at the register reads the total, Pasha doesn’t even blink, pulling out a black card from his wallet and paying for the dress. For some people, that’s an entire year’s income, yet he’s spending it like he’s buying me a pretzel at the mall.
“Where to next?” he asks as we walk back out into the lobby.
I point down the hallway at a display of purses in the window. “What about there?”
“Your wish is my command.”
“So, I really can have anything I want? No limit?” I ask, looking up at him as we walk toward the purse.
