He chuckled. “Oh, it’s not a date. It’s a work engagement and you will attend, smile and nod.”
“I have nothing to wear.”
“I expected that much—you’re fromup northafter all,” he said as if it was the worst thing you could say to someone.
I kept my mouth closed, refusing to take the bait.
“I’ve arranged for a personal stylist at Harrods this afternoon. Buy a dress and all the accessories you need.” He gestured toward the door. “You can leave after lunch. We wouldn’t want people to think I make you work too much. Be ready by 7 pm. I’ll send a car.”
“What’s the budget?”
He raised an eyebrow. “As much as you need.”
“I ju—”
“You are dismissed, Ms. Byrnes. See you tonight. Oh, and before you leave,” he added just as I turned away. “If you try to pull something and make me lose this deal, I will rain hellfire down on all the people you love and you will experience the full extent of my reach firsthand. Trust me, you will regret it.”
I nodded mutedly, my self-preservation finally kicking in.
After lunch, I arrived at Harrods and was greeted at the entrance by Teresa, the eager shopping assistant, who took me to a private room. She offered me petit fours and champagne, which I regretfully had to refuse, but I had to accept some fancy sparkling water that she ensured came straight from the Italian Alps.
“Mr. St-John said you’re in need of an evening dress and adequate accessories?”
“Oh, is that what Hugo said?” I asked, grabbing one of the mini quiches.
“I—well, yes?” She looked uncomfortable and I felt bad for a minute for the trick I was about to pull.
“Oh, okay.” I shrugged. “If you say so. Talking ab—”
“Why?” she asked, taking the bait as I hoped she would. “Did I misunderstand?”
I waved my hand dismissively. “No, but I thought Hugo said I should pick a few dresses and accessories for our trip to Monaco. I’m sure I misunderstood.”
“Oh no, I’m sure you’re right. It’s fine. Mr. St-John has an unlimited line of credit here. It’s not a problem.”
I smiled.We’ll see how you like it, Hugo. “Marvelous.”
I chose a blood-red, floor-length silk cocktail dress for tonight. My midnight hair and olive skin had always made red my best friend and the shape of this dress seemed to enhance every asset I had without giving too much away. The front of the sleeveless dress was quite conservative, with its high boat neckline and absence of any addition, but it fit me like a second skin. It also enhanced some of the early signs of pregnancy, such as my newly acquired breasts and rounder hips, which thanks to its cinched waist, gave me the hourglass figure I’d always dreamed of. The back of the dress was a little more scandalous, and I grinned looking at it in the mirror. It was backless, and the ruched lower-back detail gave the illusion of a perfectly rounded ass. The only extravagant addition was the neck fastening that was embellished with a diamond clasp and a diamond brooch that sat gently on the middle of the dip, showcasing the small dimples on my lower back.
Apparently, the diamond and the mulberry silk were the excuses for the outrageous price tag of this unassuming dress.
Despite my need for rest, I pushed through. The desire to spend Hugo’s money to punish him for calling me a whore was enough of a driver. After four designer dresses, four sets of lingerie, six pairs of shoes and three bags, I finally gave up with a yawn. I patted myself on the back for spending more than what my parents’ house was worth in two hours.
I grinned as Teresa helped me to the complementary chauffeured car that Harrods so gracefully ordered for me. She thanked me five times during the small walk to the car, and I was genuinely happy to have given her a decent commission.
We’ll see how much you like that invoice, Hugo, I thought gleefully. I knew it was petty, but I would take any victory I could get.
I was exhausted by the time I got home and I made a mental note to call the doctor to schedule an appointment soon.
I knew I could go private—Hugo set me up with the highest private medical care I could think of. It was actually the only advantage I had over my colleagues, but the overthinking part of my brain thought he’d have access to all medical information and could use it against me one way or another, so I kept using the NHS.
I set my alarm for 4:30 and went to bed to take a nap. I was pretty sure Ethan would mock me for this until the end of time if he knew.
Getting ready took me a lot longer than I had planned, as I was infuriatingly trying to make myself look as perfect as I could be. Knowing I was doing it for him bothered me even more.
I’d set my hair in a high wavy ponytail, remembering the compliments Hugo had thrown in the heat of lust that night, how he’d enjoyed kissing my neck and wrapping my hair around his fist.
I’d done my makeup to match a fifties pinup, making sure my red lips and eyes would be the main focus points—the things he enjoyed the most about me.