His gaze found me instantly, and he watched, face unreadable. I was struck with the impulse to pat my hair, turn my shoulders in as if that would somehow help me escape his intense gaze. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but being looked at like that, like I was a person and not a possession wasn’t something I was used to.
Long, commanding strides carried him to the dresser, and I spoke quickly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snoop. I just needed something to wear.”
His back was to me now, his shoulders impossibly broad, his entire being impossibly formidable, and more importantly in this moment, making it impossible for me to tell what he was doing. The fear that had receded started to come back. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking when he looked at me, but seeing his face comforted me somehow, and with his back turned to me, I could tell nothing, was left to the mercy of my rising fear.
“Come here,” he said, his back still turned, his voice icy.
I approached, each step making my heart beat faster until it boomed when I finally reached him.
“Wear this,” he said, nodding at a pair of black jogging pants and black socks.
My knees weakened with my relief, and I quickly grabbed them and put them on, the fit poor, but at least they covered me more.
Then he shoved a stack of bills into my hands. “Natasha will take you to buy clothes. The car is outside.”
And just that quickly, my relief fled and my heart dropped into my stomach. I looked down at the bills in my hands, bitter disappointment, strong and surprising, stirring in my chest. He’d rid me of David’s costume and now he was going to replace it with his own.
“Is there something in particular you’d like?” I asked on a quiet whisper.
I’d learned nothing over the years, had let a few hours of soft treatment erase years of lessons. But I knew what I was good for, all that I was good for, and it was stupid of me to—
“Did you hear me?”
His voice broke into my thoughts, and I turned my eyes to him, watching as he watched me.
I shook my head.
“Buy whatever you like,” he said.
And then he walked into the bathroom, leaving me alone.
I again stared at the wad of bills in my hands, even more confused now than I’d been before.
And even worse, I wondered if I remembered what I liked. It had been so long since anyone, including myself, had asked what I liked that I was very much out of practice.
But the car was waiting, so, wearing only socks I had gotten from him, I made my way outside.
Fawn
A slick black limo sat next to the car that I’d arrived here in, and as I walked toward it, curiosity sparked. I had no idea who Natasha was and was more than intrigued as I opened the door and got inside the dark interior of the limo.
The first thing I saw was the ravishingly beautiful woman who sat regally, back straight, dark hair cascading down her shoulders in luxurious waves, head tilted to show her features in their most flattering light. I’d met women like her before, but few who could pull off her aura so convincingly.
“It’s good that we’re going shopping. You need it,” she said, her voice softly accented.
Her words were matter-of-fact, almost cruel, but I felt strangely comforted, especially when she flashed a quick smile, one that I returned.
“I do,” I said as the limo pulled off. “I’m Fawn.”
She nodded. “Interesting name. It fits you. I am Natasha.”
“Pleased to meet you,” I said.
She quirked a brow, and I smiled. It was true. I wasn’t exactly pleased, but for some reason, I wasn’t displeased either. “Where are we going?” I asked.
“I think you don’t want to dress like that,” she said, indicating my cobbled-together outfit.
“No.” I shook my head. “No I don’t.”
“We’ll find something that you like then. Him too,” she said mischievously, looking at me with an expression that dared me to contradict her implication.
I clenched my mouth shut, and she must have picked up on the change for she smiled a bit brighter.
“You don’t want him?”
I looked away from her piercing blue gaze, choosing to ignore the question. I didn’t know what I felt. He scared the crap out of me, but he’d been kind to me. And I couldn’t deny his physical appeal.
“It’s okay. It’s just us girls,” she whispered as if she was trying to coax secrets from me.
“You talk this way about your husband with other women?” I said, expressing the realization that had just occurred to me.
Then I closed my mouth again quickly, cursing myself for having spoken out of turn.
But Natasha simply laughed, her small frame moving with the sound. “You think he…? That Vasile is my husband?” she asked.