Ouch.
I smile, and her eyes widen again, but this time they don’t pull away.
“I could take you to a bridal store,” I say.
Her lips part.
“You could get a wedding gown. We could rip it up. Splatter it with red paint.”
Her head shakes. “Absolutely not. Wedding gowns are so expensive.”
“I think the opportunity to see you in one, no matter how distressed it is, is worth the cost.”
“No,” she says.
I let my thumb play along her soft jaw. “How about a regular gown, then? There should be tiaras. You could be a princess.”
Her breath stutters. “I could wear my plain brown dress and my plainest apron and be Cinderella, before the fairy godmother gets to me and gives all my little animal friends identity crises.”
“I know a designer who’d be willing to rush order a way to have that outfit turn into a ballgown when you spin.”
Her eyes narrow with a sharpness that seems to relayof course you do. She mutters, “You’re not coming,right?”
“To pass out candy, to kids?”
She nods.
“I’d like to. I’ve never had access to a home that makes it a logical event before.”
Disgust and protest explode on her face.
“I can be in a mask,” I remind her. “No hope that pictures would do anyone any good if I’m in a full-face mask.”
Her head shakes.
“I’d fundsomuch candy. Think of the children.”
She abruptly stops, and thinks of the children. Then she gasps and states, “You’re manipulating me!”
“Yes, I am.”
“That’s dishonest!”
“Is it? I think it’s quite honest for a billionaire to openly manipulate someone into doing his bidding. I am, quite clearly, not being very discreet about it.”
She ponders that for a minute, then sinks in on herself. “You’ll be in a mask?”
“I have a collection of superhero costumes. You can pick your favorite for me.”
Momentarily seeming to forget that her goal isn’t exactly tolikeme back, she says, “Do you have Spider-man? Spider-man’s my favorite.”
“I have Spider-man.” And the equipment in my gym…to hang upside down. In case she wants that. For any reason.
A tiny smile comes to her lips, and my heart trips over the sight.
Unraveling herself, she sits properly in the seat to put her belt on. “We need to go get candy.” She lays her hands prettily in her lap.
“What about your costume?” I ask as I pull my hand away from her and guide the vehicle out of the parking lot.
