I’m looking forward to showing my Dove off on my arm. I know she’s going to be the most beautiful woman there.
“What are you shopping for today?” The owner asks and Dove glances at me.
“My woman needs a dress for the Mayor’s New Years Eve party. I’m thinking gold, but really whatever Dove wants is what we’ll get,” I answer, my tone almost bored.
I’m not a man who enjoys shopping, but I’ll do anything for Dove. And after her treatment when trying to buy me a gift, she needs to see that anyone looking down on her will face consequences.
Dove has no idea that the boutique where she couldn’t buy the cufflinks she saw has already been pushed out of business. I bought it and closed it immediately. I’ll never open those doors again as the business it was.
Consequences.
Really, it was fate’s hand at work.
I give my woman a small push toward the owner and give her a soft smile of encouragement. She straightens her back and offers the woman a timid smile. “I’m thinking something fun, but still sexy and appropriate for the party.”
The woman hums and motions toward one side of the store. “Most of our party dresses are over on this side. We could go short and flirty?”
“I’ll take a look,” Dove offers while looking toward me for some sort of approval.
I don’t give her any. This is all about her and what she likes. I’m not making the decision for her and I’m not giving her any direction.
When I spot a bench near the fitting rooms, I head that way and take a seat. The other women working whisper and giggle together while stealing glances in my direction.
The moment Dove notices, I see it. Her eyebrows pull together, and she scowls in their direction. But she doesn’t say a word.
The owner walks Dove through the racks, collecting dresses for her to try on as they go. When they have more than enough, including a flapper style gold dress I already know is the one, Dove is led into the fitting rooms.
I lean back in my seat and spread my legs, the anticipation of the show my woman is about to put on making my cock start to thicken behind the zipper of my pants. It’s been hours since I’ve been buried inside of her and it’s been far too long.
When she has the first dress on, the owner escorts her out of the fitting room to where I’m sitting. She presents Dove like a television game show prize, and I have to clench my jaw to stop myself from smiling.
Dove is pulling at the fabric of the dress which doesn’t flatter her at all. It’s a cream color that washes her out and then there are the shoulder pads which make her look boxy and wider than she really is. It’s not a good look and anyone who looks at my woman would see it.
“What do you think?” The bright question from the owner is directed toward me, but I don’t say a word.
I keep my eyes on Dove who huffs out an annoyed breath and shakes her head. “It’s awful. I’m not sure who this will look good on, but it’s not me.”
With a grin at my woman, I nod in agreement and she’s hustled away.
It plays out in much the same way for the next few dresses she tries on and comes out in. Dove gets more and more frustrated every time she’s paraded in front of me like a show pony. But she doesn’t put the owner in her place.
When Dove escapes back to the fitting room after the fifth dress, I stand up and stalk into the dressing rooms. The owner is there and holding up a bright yellow dress which shouldn’t be anywhere near my woman.
“I think this is the one,” the woman tries to argue.
“I don’t know,” Dove sounds weak as hell, and I ball my fists at my side.
When I step into the space, the owner freezes and Dove looks at me with tears in her eyes, and I know it’s time for me to step in. I don’t even glance at the owner of the shop as I bite out, “I’ve got it from here.”
“We don’t normally allow anyone else in the dressing room area,” the woman tries to argue with me. I don’t say a word and simply direct my stare at her. She takes a step back and her voice wobbles, “But I think we can make an exception, Mr. Amato.”
With a curt nod in her direction, I focus on my woman. She’s tugging on the dress she has on, clearly uncomfortable. The moment the owner walks away, I close in on her.
She looks up at me with wide eyes. “I don’t want to be here anymore, Angelo,” she murmurs. “I have plenty of dresses at home now. I don’t need another one.”
My chest warms when she calls the penthouse her home. She doesn’t even realize how she’s accepted our future as truth.
As I step closer to her, she steps back into the fitting room where all the dresses for her to try on are hanging up. I don’t stop until I have her caged against the wall.
