“Of course.” She came toward me and gave me a lovely smile, a motherly one. It reminded me of Dee, making me a lot more confident about leaving Timmy with her.
“We won’t be too long,” I assured her as she took the carrier from me.
“Let’s go,” Dean commanded as soon as Mrs. James had Timmy. “I don’t have all day. And don’t forget this pale excuse of a jacket,” he added before turning around and exiting the room.
I met him in the corridor as he pulled on his grey wool-blend tailored overcoat.
“Where are you taking me?”
“Walnut Street.”
“In Philly?” I shook my head. Philly was the home to loads of luxe and fashion-forward brands and not a place I would shop, even if I didn't have to pay for it. “No. Do you have a phone? Can I borrow it?”
He looked at me with suspicion. “Don’t you have one?”
I waved my flip phone at him. “I need the internet.”
Sighing, he extended his unlocked phone. Of course, it was the latest iPhone.
“Let’s go to Oaks Mall. It’s only fifteen minutes away and has everything I need.”
“It’s…retail,” he said, his face morphing with disgust.
“And this is Goodwill. Anything new will be a step up!” I sighed. “Plus I'm not driving two hours to Philly and trust me when I say, brands are irrelevant. You can look glamorous in a ten dollars dress and you can look cheap in a thousand dollars dress.”
“Okay, fine. I’ll take your word for it since you know all about looking cheap,” he added before opening the door and folding himself into the car.
I almost smiled at that one. I'd given it to him and he'd gone straight for the throat. But all humor evaded me when I stepped outside, where the wind seemed to be even colder than before.
By the time I made it to the car, I was shivering.
He looked toward me. “Buckle up,” he ordered as he cranked up the heat. This little gesture, as small as it was, also warmed me inside. I snorted internally, annoyed at how that little act, him simply increasing the heat, was making me feel grateful.
He didn't talk all the way to the mall, but I didn’t mind. His presence was too overbearing. I was not sure if that was due to him simply being a man, his power, his raw appeal, or his hate of me.
“Park here. Macy’s will have everything we need.”
He parked and sighed, looking at the store’s sign. “Macy’s….”
I rolled my eyes. “Come on, let’s go.” I didn't want to spend too much time away from Timmy, and Dean was not really a person I wanted to spend my time with.
As soon as we walked in, Dean grabbed a sales assistant. “I need you to help her shop.”
I glared at him because A. I could do it myself and B. I hated the way he'd talked to the poor woman.
She smiled at him; I guess his pretty face excused the rudeness. “Well, we do have personal stylists, sir.”
“Perfect. We’ll have one now.”
She giggled, actually giggled. What was wrong with this woman?
“I’m sorry, sir, but she’s on appointment only. I can try to arrange something for next w-”
“Absolutely not.” He got his wallet out of his suit jacket and flashed her a black and silver card. “I’m sure you know what this card means. Get her here, now.”
Her eyes widened and I didn't need to see the card to know it meant, ‘I’m loaded as shit.’
She nodded. “I'll get her.”
“Thought so,” he grumbled as we watched her hurrying away.
“That was unnecessary.” I sighed as I started to look at the coats nearby. I picked up the cheapest one.
He appeared beside me and put the coat away. “I beg to differ. This coat is cheap. Plus the color is not flattering.” He put it back and picked up a beautiful red asymmetrical cashmere coat with brass buttons. “This one.” He pushed it toward me.
“Good choice.” We heard a voice say from behind us.
I turned around to see a stunning blonde woman in her forties. She was perfectly dressed; everything was matching, even her make-up and hairband.
“My name’s Sabrina. I'm the personal shopper at this store and am happy to be of assistance.”
I opened my mouth to greet her, but Dean spoke before I had the chance.
“Thank you, Sabrina. She needs a full wardrobe - undergarments included, I presume.”
I rolled my eyes but didn't bother correcting him.
For the next couple of hours, I suffered under the hands of Sabrina - pants, shirts, skirts, jumper, socks, stockings, matching sets of underwear, and bras… The woman left nothing out. I was grateful I didn't know the prices. I was pretty certain I would have had a heart attack if I did. I was grateful that despite Dean's orders to make me presentable I’d managed to add two pairs of jeans and sneakers to the lot.
Dean didn't seem bothered about all the purchases. He sat on a brown leather sofa by the single VIP changing room, typing away on his phone. It seemed he never really stopped working and that was a shame. Not that he should be enjoying my company, we were never going to happen, but he should enjoy life.
I sighed with relief when Sabrina finally stopped having me try on clothes.
“We need an evening gown just in case,” Dean stated, not looking up from his phone. “I hardly think the dresses she used to wear would be suitable for any party other than an orgy.”
I blushed a deep crimson as Sabrina’s eyes widened in shock.
She turned toward me, detailing me, probably trying to decipher if he was joking or not.
But I couldn't even say anything. I was too angry with him. Just when I’d started hating him less, he snapped back with a passion. If it wasn’t for Timmy, I would have jumped on him right now and beat him as much as I could. But I knew that if I so much as slapped him, he’d take Timmy away from me, calling me violent and unstable.
“I- I- I think I have a few great choices. Just give me a few minutes. I’ll be back with something.” Sabrina rushed away, probably ready to gossip, and explain to her colleagues that she was witnessing a remake of Pretty Woman.
I snorted, she didn’t know that man was a mental and emotional terrorist whose sole goal was to steal my child…yes a real prince.
I reached behind me, trying to unzip the black and white dress, but it was stuck.
Fuck it! I wanted to get out of here as soon as possible and end this nightmare. I would just take the first dress she brings and be on my way.
“Could you help me, please? The zipper is stuck.”
Dean finally looked up from his phone. He looked at me for a second, his eyebrows slightly raised in surprise.
He cleared his throat. “Yes, turn around.”
He stood up, walked behind me, and brought my zipper down slowly.
I couldn’t help but shiver when his knuckles brushed my spine, and I hated myself for it.
I looked at him in the floor-length mirror. His head bent closer to my neck as if he was going to kiss me. I froze. This was not happening; he despised me.
He straightened sharply, as if he’d finally remembered who I was.
“What is that smell?” he asked sharply, almost accusingly.
I frowned. That was not the reaction I’d expected.