“Oh.” I felt my heart stammer and trip. “Alone?”
“The security went with her,” he said and walked off.
Usually, she told me when she stepped out. And usually, she went with my sisters.
I was surprised to hear about this solo shopping trip, not because she wasn’t allowed to head out or anything like that. By then, I’d realized Beatrice had no plans to escape.
I guess I had hurt her more than I’d realized for her to have left the house without even a goodbye. Wrecked with guiltand regret, I knew I had to make up for the things I said to her last night.
***
Forty-five minutes later, I walked into Bergdorf Goodman toward the Chanel section on the ground floor, where her guards told me I’d find her.
My eyes scanned the faces, looking for Beatrice. There, on the corner to my right, I saw that flash of lovely black locks running down her shoulders. Beatrice had her back to me, and I texted the guards that I’d found her, and they should leave.
I walked over to her, still keeping a distance, the sound of my feet on marble hushed by the din of chatter and laughter all around. Beatrice was lost in her own little world, and I watched as she rose from the edge of the couch she’d been perched upon, smoothing her skirt out with her hands; the stacked pearl and gold bracelets on her wrists jingling as she did.
God, I thought to myself as the store assistant laid out a selection of handbags, she belongs here. She wore a delicate emerald-green satin blouse, fully sleeved but cut low enough to be sexy. It was tucked into a pencil skirt so well-fit and tight, falling an inch or two above her knee, and I knew I wasn’t the only man here pausing at the sight of her.
She tried on a bag or two, and my eyes trailed down to where it fell, right against her curved hips. My mouth went dry, and when my eyes snapped back to her, I saw her shake her head reluctantly, handing back the goods to the assistant.
She walked off toward some jewelry at Van Cleef, and I saw her once again linger half-heartedly over some earrings before walking away. It was like she wasn’t really here to shop.This little escapade felt like she was trying to escape something, using shopping as a distraction, and it wasn’t working.
“May I help you, sir?” a soft voice came from my right.
“No, thank you,” I said with a frown, shaking my head, my eyes still on Beatrice.
Beatrice turned just as I heard the clicking of heels fade away, and when her eyes met mine, her lips parted open in surprise. Time stood still, and then she took one step forward, her eyes on me alone, like the crowds before us didn’t exist.
I’d been caught, and to my surprise, she wasn’t furious at being followed. She looked almost…relieved. Fuck. I had a lot to make up for.
I started to walk, and she met me halfway, tilting her neck softly as she gazed up at me. “What are you doing here?”
“I tried looking for you at the house. You weren’t there and I just…” My voice trailed off. I felt foolish for having misjudged her intentions the previous night, yet there I stood before, saying in so many words that I still expected to know where she was. I wished I’d had a better opener than that unsaid accusation.
“Oh, right.” She furrowed her brows. “I didn’t think you’d care. I just…needed some air.”
I felt the corners of my lips twitch as I looked around and tried to lighten the mood. “And some retail therapy, apparently.”
“Are you going to yell at me for spending your money now, too?” The hurt and defensiveness in her voice rang clear as day.
“No.” I shook my head and spoke gently. “I was just wondering…are you hungry?”
“What?” She furrowed her brows, confused like she couldn’t have heard me right.
“I was hoping we could have dinner together. That is, if you’d like.” I felt nervous even as I asked.
She looked at me like I’d suggested we fly to the moon. “You want to have dinner with me? Aren’t you mad at me?”
“I said some things I shouldn’t have last night,” I murmured, my eyes locked on hers. “I was so angry, Bea. I wasn’t thinking straight.”
For a moment there, I thought she’d refuse to join me. But then, she sighed and clicked her tongue, breaking out into the smallest of smiles. “Is that an apology I hear, Pavlov?” she teased.
“Did it work?” I smiled down at her, my heart leaping with joy.
“Depends,” she shrugged, pretending to think.
“On what?” I raised my brows, my voice high in a playful pitch. I couldn’t believe this is all it took. A small conversation between us, just showing up with an offer for dinner, and she was willing to put the last night behind us.
