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“Why?”
She lets go of my jacket and holds her long dark hair up, turning so the neckline of the dress at the back is exposed.
“Just do it.”
I pull the tag out and she’s holding her breath. “Well?”
“Well what?”
“How much is it?” she whispers.
I tuck the tag back inside the dress, my fingers brushing the base of her neck before she drops her hair, and the long curls tumble down her shoulders.
“Why does it matter?”
She huffs, turning to face me. “Just tell me.”
“Nine.”
Her eyes widen and then she looks down, mumbling something.
“Okay.” She smiles. “And if it’s nine hundred I can probably get some shoes too and keep it all under a thousand.”
The sales assistant shuffles nervously near us. “I’m afraid the dress is actually—”
“The last one you have? Yes, we’re aware. Thank you. She’ll take it.” I keep my eyes on Maddy. “And whatever shoes and things she needs. Just put it on my tab.”
“Of course, Mr. Rich.” The sales assistant leaves as Elena walks back over.
“Stunning.” She assesses Maddy, walking around her in a circle. This dress was made for your figure, Ms. Harper. You look sensational.”
Maddy blushes, meeting my eyes for a second and then looking away.
“Of course, you’ll need the correct lingerie.” Elena holds up a finger. “One moment.”
She glides across the store. She better not be bringing those control garments Mia mentioned or I will lose it. And it won’t be an ugly dildo getting smashed.
“How much is it really?”
“What?” My jaw tenses as Elena pulls open some giant drawers in the center of the store and pulls out something black.
“Logan,” Maddy hisses. “The dress?”
“I forgot.”
“Bullshit.”
I turn to her after Elena pulls another small scrap of black material from a different drawer.
“Nine thousand.”
“What?” she shrieks, spinning in front of me. “Unfasten it. I need to get it off.”
“No. You’re getting the dress, Mads.” I fix her with a look in the mirror and to my surprise she snaps her mouth shut. But she glares at me.
Elena reappears as the two of us are having a staring match. If Maddy thinks she will win, then she’s mistaken. Like I said, I inherited Dad’s stubbornness, and then some.
“Here,” Elena sings brightly. “These will be perfect.” She holds up the black silk bra and matching G-string proudly in the gap between us. “There’s a matching garter belt if you’d like?”
