“If you don’t mind me asking, what got you started doing this?”
“Because I can.” A hint of a smile crosses his lips.
Not the answer I was hoping for.
I suddenly notice Marus rubbing the center of his forehead.
I wonder if this might have something to do with his very cold, nearly deadly encounter with a frozen lake. Head trauma. But he seems okay. I mean, he’s aware, articulate, and doing lots of math. “Another headache?”
“No.”
I don’t believe him, but he’s saved by the bell. We pull up to a big beige, nondescript warehouse surrounded by a tall chain-link fence topped with barbed wire. He lowers his window and scans an access card, triggering the gate to open.
“I thought we were shopping for a dress,” I say.
“Not shopping.”
“Okay…” I peek out the window as we park. It’s dark out now, so I can’t see if there are any signs on the property. The only things visible are two bay doors and a single can light above the entrance.
Marus gets out and walks around, opening the car door for me.
“Thank you. Nice to know chivalry isn’t completely dead.”
He dips his head and offers me one hell of a charming smile that makes little smile divots pucker in his cheeks.
I like the beard, but this shaved look is hot, too. So are those dimples.
“Nice to know you’re a strong woman who appreciates a little pampering and perhaps an extravagant gift. Or two?”
Seeing this side of him further justifies my attraction. He knows how to be sweet. I like sweet.
“What is this place?” I look up the tall structure.
“Come inside, and I’ll show you.”
He heads straight to the entrance, unlocks it, and steps aside to wait for me.
I don’t follow right away. It’s not that I’m frightened or anything like that, but I have no idea what to expect.
“What are you up to?” I smile and narrow my eyes playfully.
“We don’t want to be late,” he says, ignoring my question.
Fine. Here goes. I walk inside and stop. I don’t actually know what I’m looking at. It reminds me of the giant warehouse in that old Indiana Jones movie. Crates stacked upon crates upon more crates. “Are you hiding the Arc in here?”
“I think I’ve got one of those.” He closes the door behind me. “This is some of the inventory for my customers. It took a while to procure everything, but I find it makes things go a little faster if I keep certain supplies on hand.” He points to a row of covered cars. “Lamborghinis, a couple of Ferraris, and a Bentley.”
“Please don’t tell me that people get one wish and they ask for a car.” Not smart.
“Sometimes, but the cars usually go with the ‘I want to be a rich, successful bachelor or bachelorette’ request. I get a lot of those.”
I do a three-sixty, inspecting the high metal ceiling with big beams stretching across it. Lights hang from the rafters, producing spotlights around the room. “What else is here?”
“I think the correct question is: What isn’t?” He jerks his head toward one of the long aisles. “Let me show you the important stuff.”
I follow him through his personal Costco of wishes. I’m beginning to understand how dedicated he is to his work. There’s sports equipment and home gyms. There’s an astronaut suit, desert buggies, and even electronics for digging for gold.
“Here we go.” He gestures toward a little room at the back. He flips on the light, and I peek inside. Racks and racks of clothes.
“Holy crap.” I walk over to the first group of dresses, all covered in clear plastic. Versace, Vera Wang, Ralph Lauren, Chanel, just to name a few. “I see you stole the entire Oscars dress collection.”
“A lot of women ask to be heiresses, which requires a nice house, expensive clothes, and a very expensive car.”
“Dang. I really need to rethink my wish. Some of these dresses are gorgeous.”
He smiles and shakes his head at his shiny black leather shoes.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
“No. Tell me.” I’m excited to be here, but I’m also still trying to figure him out.
“You still don’t get why I’m showing you all this.” He steps closer.
I stare expectantly, because, yes, I suppose I am missing the point.
“You don’t have to choose, Ginnie. You can have it all. You can have anything in here.” He looks around. “Because you already know it’s just stuff and won’t make you or anyone else happy. That’s what attracted me to you—I don’t have to worry about you getting caught up in superficial fantasies or my money or this stuff.”
He’s right, and the fact that he knows this about me speaks volumes about how closely he’s been paying attention, not only to my actions, but who I am as a person. There are no words to describe how fast and hard I’m at risk of falling for him.