The black Armani is classy. Very pretty, too. Makes Angelika look young and fresh.
The yellow Dior is excellent as well. Springlike. Gives a youthful appeal.
The red Versace is… I tap the edge of the tablet. It wraps around her like a flame, but it only makes her appear more radiant. Her skin glows, and I want to press a kiss on it to see if it’s as warm as it looks.
An unexpected impulse. And not an ideal one. I should know better than to fall for bait.
She tries on three more. They all look fantastic on her.
As they should. Monique is an expert. She doesn’t let anybody waste time by trying on a hundred mediocre items with only one decent thing buried inside.
Angelika nibbles on her lower lip as she looks over the dresses. Does she know when she does that, she draws attention to her mouth? Not only that, it makes her lips look slightly moist and swollen, like she’s been just kissed. And it makes me want to kiss her, so her mouth could be wet and swollen for all the right reasons.
My blood heats.
“This, and…this,” Angelika says, pointing at the black Armani and the cream Ralph Lauren.
Good options. She shouldn’t have to limit herself, however.
“All of them,” I say, gesturing at the seven dresses.
“What?” Angelika yelps. “I… I don’t need this many. I can’t even think where or when I’d wear them. I mean… It’d be a huge waste of money.”
Ah, little fawn. It’s sort of sweet how she’s worried about not having enough money, but doesn’t want to admit it. If I tell her how much the black Armani alone costs, is she going to have a heart attack?
Her cheeks
are starting to turn pink.
Yes, she’s going to have a heart attack. Since I don’t feel like calling 911 and dealing with the paperwork, I merely smile. “It isn’t a waste. Spending money”—on the right person—“is a beautiful thing.”
“Um…” She blinks, like she’s having trouble processing. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“But—”
My eyes on hers, I pull out my credit card, held between two fingers. One of the assistants takes it.
“You can’t! Oh my gosh, you’re already doing so much for me. I can’t impose on you like this.” Angelika cups her red cheeks with her hands. Her eyes dart back and forth between me and Monique and Lizochka.
The poor thing is embarrassed.
Why is it the person I want to splurge on is embarrassed about it, while people I couldn’t care less about are shameless about demanding my attention, money and time?
I stand. “It’s my treat, little fawn.”
“But—”
“After all, I’m the one forcing you to buy new clothes, so it’s the least I can do.”
Behind Angelika, Lizochka is giving me a wide-eyed look that says, Bullshit.
I ignore her. She can ask her husband to take her shopping and buy her things.
I instruct Monique’s staff to deliver the packages to my address. And during that time, Lizochka is whispering to Angelika, the little fawn nodding, her eyes glazed over, and her mouth opening and closing like she doesn’t know what to say.
When she’s done talking with Lizochka, Angelika comes over. “You really don’t have to do this,” she says. “We can send most of them back.”