Finally, she pulls out a few dresses, and the overly enthusiastic sales lady takes them all to the changing room. I follow the two women there, taking a seat on a plush beige armchair. I force Monroe to keep the curtain in the shop open. I slipped enough money in the saleslady's pocket to ensure we're the only ones in here, and I've seen her naked already. While the assistant, a prim-and-proper girl in her late twenties, fills my glass with champagne, my eyes are glued to Monroe slipping off her clothes while her cheeks burn with shame.
She must be hating this, and I really must be a fucking prick because I'm loving winding her up.
Monroe tries on the first dress. It's a frilly thing with so many ruffles I can barely make out her body underneath the layers of fabric.
"No," I bark the moment she comes out in the fabric.
"What do you mean, no?" Monroe whines, turning to the side. "I love it. I look like a princess."
"Next," I mutter, checking my phone. "Try something more revealing."
She rolls her eyes and walks back into the changing room.
"You two are so cute," the assistant gushes, and I give her a doubtful look.
"How about this one?"
Monroe reappears, this time in a tight satin gown with a train. It clings to her body, exposing everything I love about it.
"Better," I mutter even though I love the dress. But I'm not going to tell her how stunning she looks in front of these two nosy women. I'm saving that for when we're alone in bed, and Monroe's riding my dick to an orgasm.
I nod at the saleslady, saying, "We'll take it."
"Well, that was fast!" She looks delighted as I pay in cash for the dress. She doesn't even bat an eye at the stack of dollar bills I hand over to her. "We'll need to make some alterations of course, so it fits your bride perfectly."
"That's fine. Just make sure it's fast." I scribble an address on a piece of paper. "When it's done, send it here."
"Of course, sir."
I march Monroe out of the store, feeling her eyes on me. She wants to ask something, I can tell. And finally, she lets herself spit it out.
"What was the address you wrote down?"
I was worried about this question and even more worried about telling her the answer. But she doesn't really have a choice. I'm going to decide for her.
"It's Alessandro's house," I tell her firmly, without any room for further questions. "That's where we're getting married."
Monroe stops in her tracks, her brows knitting together. "I don't want to get married there. I don't like the guy."
"The feeling is mutual, sugar," I say. "But you don't have a choice, and neither do I. We need to convince him we're in love or he won't stop trying to get his hands on you. And we don't want that, do we?"
"No," she says softly. "But I still don't like it."
"I know." I squeeze her hand. "But it's going to be okay, I promise. Now come on."
I open the car door for her, and she gets in. I follow on the driver's side and start the car while she pensively stares ahead, refusing to talk. I let her stew in her anger. There's not much I can do to make her feel better, so I think it's best if I just let Monroe work through it herself.
"What about the money?" Monroe suddenly asks, making me look at her out of the corner of my eye as we drive.
"What about it?"
"Are you... are you going to honor the deal you made with me?"
"Monroe," I say. "You don't need to worry about money anymore."
I can tell there's another question on the tip of her tongue, but before she can express her concerns, I speak up again.
"Your grandmother is taken care of."