I was the Grinch, and she was the persistent Cindy Lou Who. Except it wasn’t my heart that grew three sizes when Anniston was around.
We passed Tiffany’s and Fendi. Anniston paused a second in front of Leña to smell the sizzling steak and pan-seared vegetables. I made a mental note to stop and get food on the way home.
“I thought I did. Now, I’m not so sure.”
We looked like two ordinary people—a couple, even—spending the morning at the mall. There was nothing ordinary about us. The soft lines of her face moved with her smile. Fuck, she was beautiful when she smiled. She was beautiful when she didn’t smile, too. Anniston was just fucking beautiful.
“You know, Grey told me I was coming here to experience a different lifestyle and see new things.” She paused, then stared up at me. Her eyes were big and brown, lost but hopeful.
She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth as though contemplating her next words, then let it go. “That wasn’t a total lie.”
Fuck. There went that twist and pull again.
“We’re here,” I said as we approached the entrance to Dior.
“You never told me what we’re shopping for.”
“There’s an event this Saturday. You need a dress.”
“You have a weird way of asking a woman on a date.”
“I don’t date, and in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not very good at asking.”
She rolled her lips between her teeth, as if remembering the moment I slid my cock past them and down her throat. It was brutal, violent, and sadistic—not something I was proud of—but something about the way she looked at me every time I mentioned it told me she didn’t hate it as much as she wanted to.
A middle-aged woman with cropped blonde hair met us as soon as we walked in. Her bleach-white veneers glowed against her bright red lips. “Just browsing?” Her fake tone was as high-pitched as her penciled-in eyebrows.
I lived in a four-million-dollar penthouse. My bank account carried a balance twice that amount. I wore five-thousand-dollar suits to work, and I sure the fuck didn’t need tobrowse.
I pulled out my wallet and handed the woman my credit card. “Give her whatever she wants.”
The blonde eyed Anniston from head to toe, mentally appraising and silently judging.
Anniston squared her shoulders and smiled, never saying a word. I wondered how many times she had to wear that mask, the one that hid her reaction to people’s unspoken judgment. She was so fucking good at it. And then, I wondered if she wore it with me.
I hadn’t been bred to be polite. One more minute watching her look at Anniston that way, and I was going to lose my shit. I locked eyes with Anniston. “I’ll be outside. You good?”
She nodded. “I’m good.”
Before I walked away, I held her by the arm and leaned in toward her ear. “If you leave, I will find you. If you even think about running or telling someone, I will know.” I could count on two fingers the amount of people I trusted. Half a finger for Grey, and that was the middle finger. One heartfelt confession in an elevator didn’t add Anniston to that list. I let her go, then walked out of the store, leaving her alone—with the she-bitchandmy goddamn credit card. For the second time today, I was trusting her to do the right thing and hoping it didn’t come back to bite me in the balls.