“What’s the difference?”
“A bag is something you use to haul around make-up and phones.”
“...and a purse?”
“A purse is something you use to carry make-up and phones. There’s refinement.” He chuckled softly as I picked one up to examine it, looking it over with a practiced eye. “This one might actually be big enough for my entire laptop...”
“No—come on!” He stood up suddenly. “A work purse? That’s what you’re choosing?”
I glanced up in surprise.
“...yes? Why does that matter?”
“Because it’s boring!”
“It’s useful!” I shot back. “I’ll use it every day!”
A timid-looking Ruby appeared from nowhere and ventured in between us.
“More champagne?” she offered.
We downed another two flutes and sent her on her way.
“Fine,” Nick glared, “I’ll get the damn purse.”
He snatched it out of my hands and stormed away. But he didn’t head back towards the front counter to pay. Instead, he started winding in a circuitous path around the entire store.
“Damn it to hell—Nick!”
I hurried after him, as fast as my borrowed heels could take me.
He was in the shoe section now, looking over the rows of heels with the bored, yet practiced eye of a man who had grown up in high society.
The second I rushed around the corner, he seized me up and down with the suddenly-not-bored, and practiced eye of a man who had slept with a great many women.
“What are you? A six? Six and a half?”
What the fuck kind of voodoo skill was that?!
“Why does it matter?” I panted, breathless from the chase. “I already picked out the purse. It’s price equivalent. Let’s go.”
He completely ignored me, focused on my feet. For a second, it looked like he was about to tear them off and just check for himself, then his face illuminated with a sudden realization.
“Those are Gemma’s shoes. She was a size six.”
All at once, the hunt was on. His eyes swept up and down the rows as he marched between them, dismissing each one of them at a glance. I rushed after him, confused as hell and starting to feel a little dizzy from the champagne.
“Seriously Nick, what are you—”
“Aha!”
With a look of great triumph, he reached down and extracted a shimmering pair.
I had truly never seen anything like them. You hear about gladiator sandals, but never gladiator stilettos. At least...not like this.
The sides of them were inlaid with the same miniature crystals that had been sewn into my gown. But instead of glistening innocently in a pattern, they swooped up with a sudden streak of jagged light that I was sure would stretch all the way up my calf. They were kept in place by a series of silken straps, so thin, that all you could see were the gemstones. The heel itself was a weapon. A knife-like point so high, it might have brought Nick and me up to the same height.
“What do you think?” he asked eagerly.