“Perfect,” I say, turning on my heel and walking toward it without waiting for her to lead.
I disappear into the fitting room and slip into the lace, the delicate black fabric hugging my body like it was made for me. The mirror confirms it—dangerous, bold, exactly what I need.
I step out, hoodie slung over my arm, and spot Leonid lounging by the counter, watching the chaos like it’s his personal entertainment. His eyes flick to me, scanning from head to toe. Ignoring him, I walk toward the side of the counter.
“Shoes.” I point to a wall of stilettos. “All of them.”
“Feeling petty,dorogaya?”
“Me? Never.” I grab a pair of red-bottomed heels. “Just making sure I get my money’s worth. Oh, wait—it’s not my money, is it?”
He steps closer, voice dropping. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”
“Good thing I like dangerous.” I snag another jacket. “This, too.”
Twenty minutes later, the counter is piled high with designer everything. Vivian’s typing frantically into her register, mascara slightly smudged from stress-sweating.
Leonid just watches, looking amused. “Done?”
“Almost.” I grab one last thing—a silk scarf that says$2100on it. “Now I’m done.”
“The total is…” Vivian swallows hard.
“Card.” Leonid doesn’t even look at the number.
I feel a tiny stab of victory. Until his hand finds my waist again, pulling me close.
“Hope you enjoyed yourself,malishka.” His lips brush my ear. “Because now you’re going to model every single piece. Starting with that red lace.”
My elbow’s already cocked back for his ribs when I catch it: a flash of movement in my peripheral vision. A face in the mirror-lined wall that makes my blood freeze.
Same jaw. Same eyes—except it isn’t him.
I whip my head back to Leonid, then to the mirror again. The face is gone…
19
Leonid
“Time to go,” I growl.
Clara’s body goes rigid under my hand, her usual smart mouth suddenly silent. I follow her gaze to the wall or mirrors, but there’s nothing there except our reflection.
She whips her head around so fast I think she’ll snap it; her mouth drops open. Then she looks at me like I’ve grown a second head.
“What?”
She blinks a few times, as if trying to convince herself of something.
“If you’re admiring my face, malishka, we can stop and get a better look.”
She blinks those big eyes at me, teeth catching her bottom lip. It’s oddly… distracting.
“I thought I saw…” She shakes her head, curls dancing across her bare shoulders. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”
Blyat.Since when does Clara Caldwell pass up a chance to tell me I’m an asshole?
My phone buzzes. I fish it out without taking my eyes off her face, still catching those little glances she keeps throwing my way.
