“At the pace you’re going with her, if I don’t get back to you tomorrow you might be married to her before I can,” he joked.
I wanted to tell him he was being ridiculous, but the words just wouldn’t come. He was right about one thing, I didn’t understand how it was possible but I was pretty sure Angelica already had me wrapped up tight in no time flat.
7
ANGELICA
My first few days living in Morgan’s home and working for him were pretty boring. It quickly became apparent to me that he hadn’t been prepared to hire a live-in assistant when he made the offer because he had no idea what he wanted me to do. I should have realized when I saw the car and the house that he didn’t just own a strip club because as nice as Morgan’s was, it certainly didn’t pay for everything he owned. A man in his position already had a team of helpers to do his bidding, including an administrative assistant at the office who took care of his schedule and most of his correspondence, a cleaning service who came every other day and a grocery service who delivered everything he wanted to the house.
It took me almost another week before I came up with enough things to do for Morgan to be able to pretend like I was earning the ridiculous salary he was paying me. It wasn’t an easy task though because it seemed like my number one duty was to stay by his side. I kept my eyes open and jotted notes down for everything I saw that I thought I could take care of and presented him with my list this morning. He’d looked stunned by my list before he’d smirked smugly and agreed with my ideas—right before he’d suggested we go shopping so that I would be properly dressed for the job. When I’d tried to argue, he’d just pointed out that I was representing him since most of what I’d come up with was me running interference between him and his army of helpers. He’d made it impossible to say no and I’d found myself bundled into his car and swept off to Nordstrom’s before I’d known what was happening.
“Welcome to Nordstrom’s Mr. Cadwell,” an elegant redheaded woman closer to Morgan’s age greeted him as he led me into a changing room set off to the side. Her green eyes sparkled as she looked at him, lashes fluttering in a manner I would have thought she had grown out of by now.
“Marla, this is Miss Rose,” he answered, drawing her rapt attention from him to me.
“Yes,” she sighed. “Lovely to meet you.”
“And you,” I replied, not meaning it since it was impossible to miss the annoyance that flashed in her eyes as she looked me up and down. I deeply regretted not taking more care for this shopping trip because my shorts and t-shirt made me feel incredibly young and unattractive compared to how well put together she was.
“I’ve got the room set up with options selected just for Miss Rose based on our conversation, Mr. Cadwell,” she simpered.
“A complete overhaul, correct?” he clarified.
“Yes, I’ve included everything from shoes to sunglasses and I’ve got a couple girls who can help with sizes and pull other items if needed,” she said, clapping her hands to signal to the other shoppers that they should join us.
It was like I’d walked onto the set of a high-end fashion-modeling shoot with the way everyone was dressed. I highly doubted they usually put this much effort into what they wore to work and figured they had hoped to catch Morgan’s eye based on the sly looks that were sent my way. Although we had spentnearly every waking hour with each other over the past week, he hadn’t made any more advances towards me so I wasn’t sure of how to act anymore. I wanted to stake my claim and make it clear that he was mine, but it just wasn’t true.
Some of my indecision must have been clear on my face because the women seemed triumphant and ramped up the flirting as I tried on different outfits. Morgan didn’t pay any attention to them, though. I’d tried on a few options and would have been happy to stop there until I saw the dress that changed it all. The silky material was a swirling together of several shades of green. I knew it would make my eyes pop and once I put it on I fell in love with it and couldn’t wait to see the look on Morgan’s face when he saw me in it.
When I stepped out of the dressing room, Morgan was looking down at his phone while Marla leaned over his shoulder to speak into his ear. He nodded his head idly, and I cleared my throat to get his attention. “Holy fucking Christ,” he breathed.
“I’m not sure where I’d wear it to, but I really love this dress,” I murmured, walking towards him with my eyes locked on his.
“We’ll find somewhere,” he assured me. “Even if I have to throw a fucking party. You are getting that dress.”
“I should probably say no because it’s ridiculously expensive, but I don’t think I can resist this one,” I admitted.
He looked up at Marla and shooed her away before speaking again. “You’ll learn soon enough that there’s no point saying no to me anyway, Angel, because I’ll just have to find ways to change your mind if you do.”
He reached out a finger and trailed it along my naked leg as he spoke. With him sprawled in a chair and me in heels, he could probably look up the skirt of the dress if he wanted to do so. He lifted the hem slightly and his eyes heated as he stared at me.
“Why do I have a feeling I’d enjoy your method of persuasion?” I asked throatily.
“Because I’d make sure you did,” he promised, glancing down at his watch afterwards. “Unfortunately, this isn’t the time or place for a lesson in persuasion.”
“I haven’t tried anything on yet,” I objected. “I’ve only gotten through maybe a quarter of it so far.”
He clasped my hand in his and rubbed his thumb in circles around my palm. “Was there anything you’ve tried on that didn’t fit?”
“It all fit perfectly,” I answered, my breath hitching.
The circles continued, the tip of his finger dipping between mine with each upward swipe. “Anything you didn’t like? Something that wasn’t your style?”
“None of it’s really my style since any one of these outfits probably costs more than my entire wardrobe,” I confessed as I glanced down at the dress I was wearing, feeling guilty for loving it so much.
His hand tightened on mine until my eyes met his again. “But if money were no object, are these the types of things you’d buy for yourself?”
“Maybe,” I admitted. “But I’d probably go for more casual stuff—jeans, sandals, yoga pants. I’m not a very formal person.”
