Yet, when she gravitates toward a rack near the back, I see her fingers skirt over the silk like it’s made of glass she couldshatter. There is undeniable reverence in her eyes. When her fingers catch a price tag, she recoils like she’s been electrocuted.
I’m beside her in an instant.
I pluck the sheath she’d been admiring, holding it up against her frame by the hanger. In contrast, the emerald green makes her eyes look more golden than brown. “Fuck yes,” I commend, nodding in approval.
“That’s—” Janella squawks. Quickly, she drops her voice to a furious whisper. “Iosif, that’s almost four thousand dollars!”
I don’t even try not to laugh at her horrified expression.
“So?”
Her eyes are bugging out of her head.
“That’sinsane!” she hisses. “I could get something perfectly fine for a fraction of the—”
I roll my eyes and turn back to the rack, draping the dress over my arm. I’m already grabbing her more options. There’s a gorgeous burgundy jumpsuit. Deep navy trousers. A champagne silk blouse.
I turn to the saleswoman.
“This is her style,” I say, holding out the haul. “Bold colors. Interesting cuts. Set up a changing room for her.”
Janella waits for the woman to leave before her small hand tugs insistently at my elbow. “I can’t just—”
“Of course you can,” I assure.
She looks up at me, clearly anxious.
“I’m going to sit over there—” I point to the seating area with the green velvet sofa, “and you’re going to try on thingsuntil we find what you feel good in. Then, we’re going to repeat this in a couple of other places.”
She only takes a couple of steps away, still looking overwhelmed.
“Go,” I say, nudging her toward where the saleswoman is waiting. “And don’t you dare come out with any fewer than ten things you love. Don’t fixate on the price tags. My wife should look good.”
The look she shoots me could turn a lesser man to stone. But she goes.
Meanwhile, I settle in and seize the moment to pull out my phone to check in with Miron. I barely pay attention to the saleswoman flitting to and from the changing room until she leaves Janella to play dress-up.
Ten minutes pass. Then fifteen.
Miron updates me on the surveillance plans for tomorrow.
Twenty minutes.
It’s been completely quiet for a while now. I can’t hear anything beyond the low, generic melody of the music spilling from the store speakers.
I glance at my watch. It’s been twenty-five minutes.
That’s too fucking long.
It isn’t the first time I’ve taken a woman shopping. Being a tagalong to a little retail therapy’s nothing new. I fuck up plenty, but I know how to wait out a woman on a shopping spree. I’ve got two sisters and two sisters-in-law, after all… and plenty of notches on my bedpost. That’s plenty of intel to forge a spectrum in my head. I could bet where Janella falls on it.
My knee bounces—a tell I haven’t had since I was a wiry teenager at a poker table that I had no fucking business being at.
I last another minute.
That’s it. Enough.
I rise to my feet, striding closer to the changing rooms. I still hear nothing. On guard, I survey the store’s layout. The fitting rooms… They are parallel to some service corridor.
