Then he smiles. “Are you ready to spend some money?”
“How much are we talking about?”
“How much are you willing to spend?” I can only imagine how skeptical I must look to make him laugh like he does. “I'm serious. Whatever you want, go right on ahead.”
It's almost too much to believe. I guess there's nothing to do but test him by entering the first shop we come to. I'm glad to hear people speaking English. At least I'll be able to communicate.
“Mm, I would like to see you in something like this.” He jerks his chin in the direction of a mannequin wearing what I guess could pass for a dress. It's barely a scrap of fabric and looks like it might be sheer in the right lighting.
“I bet you would.” I roll my eyes before I realize what I'm doing, and my stomach sinks.
He only laughs it off with a shrug. “Hey, I'm a man. You can't expect much from me.” His smile is contagious.
“Let's deal with the basics first, shall we?” I can't believe I'm actually smiling. What choice do I have? I can be miserable and make things more difficult, or I can try to get along. I can't pretend it isn't nice seeing him like this. Like the Christian I thought I knew before. As he follows me around the store and even offers to help hold things as I pull them off the racks, I can almost remember why I fell for him.
“Oh, forget it.” I stop admiring a light, pretty sundress on seeing the price tag.
“Why?” He reaches out, touching the fabric. “That would look nice on you. Add a sunhat, and you could be any one of the girls strolling around outside.”
“But it's, like, a lot of money.”
“And last I checked, I told you not to worry about that. I meant it.” He makes a big deal of removing the dress from the rack and draping it over what he's already carrying in his other arm. “I want you to have everything you want.”
“Price checking. Force of habit,” I confess with a shrug.
“A habit to drop.” He follows me to a curtained-off dressing room where I try a few pieces on. By the time I'm ready to settle on what I want, I'm almost giddy. All of this, for me? This is only the first store we've gone to. I need shoes, underwear, and pajamas. Maybe a new purse?
After an hour, I have much more than that. We're both carrying bags by the time we leave the fourth store we’ve visited. Christian is having just as much fun as I am, if not more. “What the hell? Why not,” he replied when I couldn't decide between a pair of designer sunglasses. “Get both.” So I did, along with shoes, boots, jeans, T-shirts, and lace panties that are so pretty I'm almost afraid to wear them.
I could be a princess in a fairy tale if I hadn't been kidnapped and brought here on a jet while drugged. Why did I have to remember that now? It's such a beautiful day, and I'm having fun for the first time in so long.
We leave the bags in the trunk with the driver, who's waiting patiently for us. “Are you hungry?” Christian asks once the driver’s closed the trunk. “I imagine all that shopping would work up an appetite. And we haven't yet found you any evening clothes.”
“You plan on taking me out in the evening?”
“I would love to show you off. No matter where we go, I will have the most beautiful woman in the room on my arm.”
My heart hurts. I want so much for this to be us. The real us, the way it used to be. When he would spoil me and pamper me and shower me with compliments and praise. When there wasn't any pain or murder. No blood.
“Food. Please.” He takes my hand, and I let him lead me to a small restaurant with a few tables scattered out front. There's only a counter inside, nothing fancy. Not that I care. And something tells me anything that comes out of there would be better than I’d get at a fabulous restaurant back home, anyway.
Before we step inside, his phone rings. “Merda,” he mutters, reaching for it and sliding me an apologetic look. “I have to take this. Why don't you wait inside where it's cooler?” Yes, the sun is really beating down now. It would be nice to step inside.
Before I can, something catches my eye from around the side of the building. Peeking out from the shadows of an alley between this building and the one beside it is a shabbily dressed man. His gnarled face is covered in gray whiskers, and his clothes could use a wash. He's also painfully thin with veins visible beneath his papery skin.