She drew upon all her years of training to sound and look unconcerned and unbothered as she said, “I was about to say the same thing.”
Something flickered in his emerald eyes that reminded her of the eyes of the wolf in the photo at Protection, Inc. Could he too have regrets? Then it vanished, leaving only the anger he seemed to carry with him like a sword. His tense shoulders lowered like he was forcing them down.
“Right,” Nick said. “It was a mistake, that’s all. It’s my job to protect you. And from now on, that’s all I’m going to do.”
Another awkward silence fell. This time they spoke simultaneously.
“I should prefer that you not mention —” Raluca began.
“If you tell my teammates, they’ll never let it go, so —” Nick started.
They both broke off, then Raluca gave a cool nod. Keeping her voice even, she said, “We are on the same page. Excellent. As far as we are both concerned, for both others and ourselves, this never happened. We shall not mention it, and we shall not repeat it. Now please leave the dressing room. I need to change.”
Nick walked out without a word. The door closed behind him with a very final-sounding click.
Cursing herself for her foolishness, Raluca put on the shirt and pants and shoes that didn’t quite fit, and the heavy, awkward jacket that never let her forget that someone was trying to kill her. Then she made herself emerge to face Nick.
To her relief, he seemed to have already spoken to the salespeople. One hurried to fetch the clothes on the rack, and another loaded the shoe boxes into the trunk of Nick’s car.
He beckoned her into the passenger seat, waited with visible impatience for her to put on her seatbelt, then stomped on the accelerator. The car darted into heavy traffic, but he avoided a collision while leaving a trail of honks and angry yells behind them. Raluca resigned herself to his driving. He was the bodyguard, and she had never learned how to drive at all. She’d always had a chauffeur when she’d been a princess, and later she’d used taxis.
Nick brought the car to a smooth if somewhat sudden stop in front of a distinctly less fancy shop.
“Destiny’s nightclub place,” he explained.
“Thank you.” She reached for the car door, but he was already out of the car and opening it before her fingers could close around the handle. Then he gave a quick glance around that included inside the shop, then held that door open for her too.
He moved quickly and with grace, she couldn’t help noticing. Like his wolf, perhaps. Beautiful...
Competent, she corrected herself. As Hal promised.
Raluca looked around the shop with interest once she was inside. She had observed such places before, but never gone inside. It had clothes that she’d seen but never worn, some on mannequins but most crowded onto racks: leather corsets, skirts that glittered with sequins rather than jewels, tank tops with designs that were printed instead of embroidered. Not quite a peasant shop, but certainly not a billionaire’s shop, either.
She waited, but no one moved to greet her. The salespeople were eyeing her and Nick with suspicion, not pleasure. Raluca looked at how the employees were clothed, then at herself and Nick, and guessed that he was still under-dressed, while her jewels made her over-dressed. And also, that perhaps she was meant to select her own clothing rather than have it brought to her.
Raluca wasn’t going to be intimidated by a bunch of commoners, but neither did she intend to linger long where she wasn’t wanted. Holding her back straight and her chin high, she quickly gathered clothes, thinking of what might taunt Nick with the body he’d sworn to never touch again.
Soon she had more than she could easily carry, but no one offered to help. In fact, they seemed to be pretending not to see her, while watching Nick as if he might steal something. She opened her mouth to reprove them just as Nick made a grab for her armful of clothes.
“Here, I’ll take those,” he said.
Raluca felt in every inch of her body what would happen if she let Nick into the dressing room with her and then closed the door. He might dislike her, but their chemistry was undeniable. She could feel it even now. But she couldn’t give in to it. If there was anything more foolish than having sex in a dressing room with a tattooed criminal werewolf who didn’t even like her, it was doing it twice.
She jerked away. “You are not accompanying me while I change.”
“Fine.” Raising his voice, he demanded of the room at large, “Are you all on a fucking lunch break? Get the lady some help!”
A salesperson came over. He wasn’t especially friendly, but he did help Raluca take her selections into the changing room. She closed the door on them both, discarded the clothes that didn’t fit, and from the remainders, selected an outfit that would horrify Uncle Constantine, shock everyone who had ever known her as a princess, and, she hoped, make Nick regret his entire existence.
Holding everything so Nick couldn’t see it, Raluca marched to the counter, paid for her selections, and carried them away in the bags she was given.
“No hangers?” Nick inquired.
“Not necessary.” After a moment, Raluca admitted, “I hope. I have not worn clothes like this before.”
As they climbed into the car, her stomach rumbled audibly, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten all day. She first hoped Nick hadn’t heard, then remembered his werewolf senses.
“Please take me to my hotel,” she said, hoping to pre-empt any rude comment. And also that he’d made a new reservation at some point while she’d been in a dressing room.