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Me: No panties means easy access.
Lachlan: Just don’t let it show you’re NOT wearing panties.
Me: It will be my secret.
Lachlan: OUR secret.
In a boutique on Fifth Avenue, the saleslady helps me select a pale pink chiffon A-line cocktail dress with a jeweled bra-cup top that sits right above my knee. Taking a photo with the mirror, I send it to Lachlan, and he sends back a thumbs upanda tongue emoji. Giggling at what a good time we’re having, I amble to the shoe section and try on a pair of nude strappy espadrilles.
The saleslady packs everything up and says, “That comes to 1,879.42.”
I freeze, feeling embarrassed. Lachlan didn’t tell me what to spend or what not to spend. Dread and anger fire through me, being so dependent on a man. First my father, and now my husband. I’m beholden to him, and I don’t like it.
I don’t think he sees me as a burden, but I have to figure out how to be more of my own woman in this relationship. Or am I fooling myself that it’s even a possibility when married to the Irish mob?
I haven’t gotten to know my sisters-in-law, Isabella and Priscilla, yet. Priscilla works for the Quinlans and has maintained some independence. Isabella’s twins are due soon and she spends most days in bed. I found out she started a foundation and runs it from an office in that huge mansion.
I relax, thinking Lachlan might let me dance for a living and make my own money. Make my own choices. If we stay married.
From my school bag, I take out my wallet, blushing. “My husband gave me his credit card.”
“No problem.” The sales lady takes it from me without batting an eyelash and runs it through.
A high-end store like this probably has lots of customers whose husbands pay for everything.
With the wrapped dress hanging up, and the shoes in a box, the nice woman hands it all to me after the receipt. “Here you go. I hope you’ll come back for another event.”
I’d explained the dress was for a fundraiser, just not which one, because Lachlan never told me.
“Is it okay if I stay here until my husband comes to pick me up?”
“Sure. You can sit there.” She motions to the leather slipper chairs near the front of the store.
I sit and text Lachlan where I am, but he strolls in the door a few seconds later. “Thereyou are.”
My heart races. “How did you find me?” I expect he’ll say process of elimination since this is the only high-end boutique near my school.
“There’s an app on your cell so I can find you.”
“Really?” I tighten my fingers around my new phone, unsure how I feel about that.
“Is that a problem?” He folds his arms.
“I wish I would have known,” I say softly. “Not that it matters. I have nothing to hide from you.”
He leans down and brushes his lips against my cheek. “It’s for your protection, little wife. It’s so I can always find you and get to you if you’re in trouble.” His words give me chills, reminding me I married a very dangerous man, who probably has enemies lined up to hurt him.
Now they can hurt him by hurting me.
“Is this yours?” He points to the wrapped dress hanging from a stand.
“Yes. I bought shoes, too.” I reach into my schoolbag. “Here’s the receipt. It was a little pricey.”
He shoves it in his pocket without looking at it. “Doesn’t matter. You’re my wife. You can have whatever you want.”
“I’d like another kiss.”
He growls. “I want more when we get home.”
