“Welcome, Mr Maddox! If you let me know what you’re?—”
“You won’t be needed,” he snaps, then turns to me. His eyes are dark and serious. “This is a formal event with the London Mafia Syndicate. It’s a ball of some type. You can wear whatever you like.”
The air whooshes from the room. A mafia event?
I… Oh, I can’t believe it. My mouth goes dry.
Reid just waits patiently, not looking away or seeming annoyed as I try to recover myself. The London Mafia Syndicate is a rumour in London, talked about in gossip on social media and magazines. And Reid is going to take me? In case his wound opens up?
That’s obviously ridiculous.
So is it that he wants me with him? Why?
I nod and look around. I’m going to do as Reid says, and choose something to wear. I’ll trust him, which is a weird thing to say about a man who sort of kidnapped me. Also—what girl would say no to a new dress? That would be silly.
I browse through the racks. There are all sorts of gorgeous outfits, and I linger over one that’s a lilac, multi-layered skirt and a fitted bodice.
Reid hulks over me, his usual dark rain-cloud self. Silent. I’m coming to be quite reassured when he does that.
I finger the dress, and discreetly check the price tag. I almost choke. Okay, not that. It costs five times my monthly rent. I move away and look at simpler dresses.
Picking out a dress in more of a work style, I do a quick peek, and it’s still outrageously pricey, but not breathtakingly.
“What about this?” If my gaze slides back to the multi-layered gorgeousness I can’t have, it’s not intentional.
“Hmm.” Reid doesn’t look at the dress I’m holding up, he looks at me. “What about that other dress?”
I shake my head and smile. “I don’t think that’s the right thing.”
“It’s a formal event. I’ve seen other women wearing things like that before. But this is…” He taps the dress I’m holding, which is modest, and unremarkable. No one will take any notice of me in that.
“I like it!” I lie brightly. “I’ll try it on.” I go to turn away.
“Callie.” Reid’s one word stops me, but I don’t dare look at him. He’ll see everything in my heart. How I want the dress, how I want him. How I adore him, and I don’t want to be a bind or an inconvenience.
He hooks one finger under my chin and guides my gaze upwards to look into his eyes. “What’s really going on here?”
“It’s too expensive,” I reply in a small voice.
He narrows his eyes. “Not your concern. I’m paying.”
“That’s kind?—”
“Callie,” he says severely. “I wouldn’t bring you to a shop that I couldn’t afford to buy anything and everything you wanted from.”
“But—”
“I’m a billionaire. Do you know what that means?”
“You’re very rich?” I knew that already, but nobody is rich enough to throw this much money at clothes.
“A billion is a thousand millions. Do you not think an evening with you is worth a thousandth of my wealth?”
I feel like a spinning thing on a computer indicating it’s struggling to process the numbers. “A million is a lot of money,” I say, stupidly.
“It is. And you’re worth a lot more than one thousandth of my fortune. So please. Try on the dress. For me.”
“I…”
