Spinning around, I look up into his face. “So, you wouldn’t rather I look like the others, dripping in designer labels and perfectly put together?”
“I don’t give a fuck what you wear. You’re always perfect, Little Bird. You always have been.”
TWELVE
SEBASTIAN
Changing out of my sweatpants,I slip on a pair of navy chino shorts and a white button-down with the sleeves rolled to the elbows. I look like a rich preppy asshole. But I am rich, and I am an asshole. The only thing that’s new about my outfit is the preppy look, and it’s exactly what I was looking for when I picked out my clothes.
Starling’s brows arch, and I see her struggle to hold back a smile when she looks at me.
“Shall we?” I ask, holding out my arm for her to take.
“Why not,” she says, amusement glittering in her expressive eyes.
As much as what I said about not caring about what she wears is true, I do enjoy seeing my wife dressed in clothes that I’ve selected for her. When I first tricked her into coming to Kingsacre, I filled our closet with expensive designer clothes, stupidly expecting her to be impressed by the price tags and labels.
Instead, she dismissed everything and was openly disgusted at not only the things I’d picked but also the fact that I thought she’d be swayed by something as inconsequential as clothes.
I haven’t stopped shopping for her, but now I slip expensive things into our closet, hoping she won’t notice that I’ve removed the price tags so she won’t refuse to wear them on the principle of how much they’ve cost. Since I stopped her from going to campus, she rarely wears anything other than athletic wear or jean shorts, which is why I picked the Dior shorts she’s wearing now.
I had them tailored to her measurements, and they fit like a second skin, clinging to her small but perfectly formed ass in the most tantalizing way. Although there’s something about seeing her dressed up like this that’s both gratifying and a little disturbing.
But I need Courtney to take one look at Starling and see all of the privileges that being married to me affords her. It doesn’t matter that in real life Starling is the least materialistic person I’ve ever met. After we got together, I added her to all of my bank accounts and made sure she understood that what’s mine is hers, but she rarely spends anything.
In fact, if I gave her the opportunity, I’m confident that she’d find a part-time job or two, but there’s no way I’m going to allow my wife to work cleaning tables in a diner when we have more money than we could ever spend in ten lifetimes in the bank.
I don’t know what she intends to do once she graduates, but I’m hoping that she’ll be pregnant and I won’t have to pretend to be happy for her when she gets a job and devotes too much time to it.
I know that I’m an unreasonable asshole, but I love my wife, and I want to hoard her attention. I’m willing to share it with our children, but nothing and no one else.
Opening the car door for her, I hold out my hand and help my wife slide into the passenger seat. James, the head of her security, is waiting silently across the garage, and I gesture him forward.
“Sir?” he addresses me.
“We’re heading to campus. Mrs. Lockwood wants to visit the bookstore and coffeehouse. I’d like full visible protection the moment we step onto campus.”
Nodding once, James takes a step back. “Of course, we’ll follow and ensure she’s fully protected.”
“Thank you,” I say, smiling briefly before I stride to the driver’s seat and slip into it, pulling away from the house with the SUV full of security personnel following behind us.
It takes about thirty minutes to drive to campus, and we leave the car with the valet as we wait for Starling’s security to file into a very visible circle around us.
“This is absolutely ridiculous,” Starling hisses beneath her breath. “What would you have done if I’d decided to go to school instead of staying home this semester? Would you really have had four ninjas escort me to all of my classes?”
“Yes,” I say simply, ignoring all the interested looks our convoy is garnering as we stroll through campus.
“Yes?” she hisses quietly.
“Yes, I’d have sent all these people to keep you safe.”
“I’m not in any danger,” she says, trying and failing not to glance at Tom, who is walking stoically on our left, his face expressionless.
“Just pretend they’re not here,” I tell her, subversively reminding her not to pay too much attention to the employee who’s betrayed us.
We reach the bookshop without running into Courtney. I doubt we’ll find her in here, because according to her class schedule, and despite it being her junior year, she’s still only taking basic classes and has yet to declare a major.
Tugging at my hand, Starling tries to pull away from me, but I hold on tightly to her fingers, increasing my pace and following her through the cool, dark wood-lined shelves untilwe find the section she’s looking for. Reluctantly releasing her, I watch as she browses the shelves, selecting a handful of books, before she heads to the fiction section and stares longingly at the elaborately patterned fabric-bound classics.
