Liked is a massive understatement. It's fucking beautiful and perfect. It's edgier than my normal aesthetic but there's something dark and morbid about it that I can't deny fits that part of me that I keep hidden.
"And these earrings." He points to a gold pair in the case and doesn't bother looking to see my reaction. "And that bracelet."
I study the skull earrings with the dangling pearl as she brings them out, wondering how it's possible Miller continues to pick out items that I like. Maybe he knows me better than I think he does.
"There's a matching ring, too," the clerk adds. "And necklace, if you want the whole set."
"Yep," Miller blurts out, not holding back at how she just upsold him.
I do the math in my head, the total coming to over seven thousand dollars for the stuff he has picked out already. If he doesn't stop soon, I'm going to faint.
Miller snaps his fingers. "You need a wallet."
"This one would go nicely." The clerk reaches under the back of the case and pulls out a tray with wallets on them, settling on the simple black one with a gold Alexander McQueen logo. "It'll hold a few cards and cash but will fit well in the clutch."
"What about clothes?" Miller eyes the apparel section further into the store. "That red jacket is screaming your name."
It's as if he already saw my gaze flickering to it when I looked around the store. But I won't admit that, because then he'll insist on buying me it, too.
"It has matching trousers." The clerk smiles as if she's aware she could convince this man to buy me anything at this point. "Come. Try it on." She waves us over and takes off in that direction.
Miller puts his hand on my lower back and nudges me to follow her.
I sigh and comply, my eyes focused on the back of her head so he doesn't pick up on anything else I might be interested in. I can barely breathe without him noticing the shift in pattern. It's strangely comforting to know someone is paying that much consideration to what I desire.
Usually, I'm the one hyper-vigilant in keeping others happy—it's bizarre to be on the receiving end of that for a change.
The jacket is bright red, cropped, and oozing elegance.
"It has a concealed front fastener so you can wear the top by itself." The woman grabs it off the rack and snatches a matching skirt, too. "The trousers have this gorgeous bow on the side."
"What about this, too?" Miller runs his hand along the fabric of an electric navy dress.
"That chiffon dress is stunning." The clerk takes one of those, too, and walks toward the fitting room. "Feel free to grab anything else you like, too," she tells Miller.
I trail her to the private area. "I don't think I ever got your name."
"Sasha," she offers with a smile that seems mildly genuine.
"I'm Cora." I extend my hand once she's unloaded the clothes onto the hooks in the room.
"Your husband has a great eye."
"Oh, he's..." But I catch myself before I continue. "Yeah, he's got great fashion sense."
"I'll be right out here if you need anything." She slips out and leaves me with the few items.
I fumble with the tags and wonder how I'm going to make these look bad so he doesn't spend another eight thousand dollars. The dress alone is forty-five hundred. Here's to hoping he doesn't realize shoes would go well with these outfits, too. Good thing he doesn't know what size I wear...although it wouldn't be hard for him to figure it out.
A few minutes later, I step into the mirrored sitting area and Miller perks up in his seat.
"Damn." He blinks a few times and clutches his chest.
"Yeah?" I do a spin and even though this vaguely reminds me of how I spent my day yesterday, it's nothing like how Ricardo treated me.
"We'll take one of each," he tells Sasha as she approaches with a box in her grasp.
"Try these on," she says, pulling out a black heeled boot with blood-red heel and silver toe cap.
