“However many you want.”
I raised a brow. “I want a whole houseful.”
“I can take your IUD out in this alley, and we can get started right now.”
I pretended to think about it. “Tempting. But I’m going to leave that to the professionals.” I cocked my head. “And I thought you were ‘saving yourself for marriage’?”
He cast me an intense, thoughtful look, but didn’t respond. I frowned at him, not understanding his behavior since the flight. Maybe he really had lost his mind.
I stopped to peer through a store window. It was a handmade boutique, and all the colors inside beckoned me.
“Hey, Ronan?”
“Yes, Mila?”
“I want to go in there.”
He chuckled. “Is this a trauma-induced statement?”
I turned to face him. “I just don’t want you to get bored while I go shopping.”
“You’re enough entertainment for me alone. It’s like watching a circus.”
I shoved his chest playfully and drifted into the store.
The retailer and owner was a knowledgeable Indian woman who wasn’t shy about telling me what would or wouldn’t look good on me. Ronan even shook his head with her when I came out of the dressing room in a peach-colored dress.
I bought three bags of dresses, shoes, and handmade jewelry. A long argument ensued at the cash register, which the owner found highly amusing. Ronan forced a black credit card on me. I may love him, but I didn’t want to spend his dirty money. In the end, he won—only because he told me I could donate all my earnings from modeling to save baby humpbacks if he paid for everything else. How he knew I had a love for the animals didn’t surprise me.
He literally pushed me into the next store. I looked at all the lingerie on the shelves and gave him an unimpressed expression.
“Why do I need to be here if you’re saving yourself for marriage?”
“Because we’re getting married today.”
I stared at him. Blin
ked. Then collected myself. “But we’re in Paris . . . Aren’t you chafing at the romanticism of it all?”
He laughed. “Nyet. We’ll have a traditional Russian wedding when we get home.”
That was all he was going to say about this extremely crazy idea?
“Ronan . . .”
The shadows in his eyes took over. He collared my throat and pulled me in, his rough voice in my ear. “The next time I fuck you, I need to know you’re mine. And I need you tonight.”
I exhaled beneath his intensity. I guessed that explained the “saving himself” spiel. Estelle’s words returned. Ronan wasn’t as simple as an ordinary repairman, but nothing else seemed to matter when he was near. I wanted him in every way I could have him. But what I wanted more was to give him what he needed.
“Okay.”
His eyes lit with satisfaction, then he kissed me on the lips and released me just as the salesclerk sauntered up to us.
“Puis-je vous aider à trouver quelque chose?” Can I help you find something?
“Quelque chose de sexy et de jaune. Et pas de soie,” Ronan said. Something sexy and yellow. And no silk.
Of course Ronan spoke French.