There was a crash as the designer coffee mug hit the floor.
I thought I’d offended her. I thought maybe his name was so despised that she’d thrown the mug down in anger. I headed for the door.
She ran in front of me, slipping and almost falling on the marble floor, and blocked my path. And now I saw how the color was draining from her face. She babbled at me in Russian for a few seconds, begging forgiveness, before she remembered I was just a dumb American tourist. “I’m sorry!” she said in English. “I didn’t know! Alina! Alina!”
I’d seen people go pale, but I’d never seen anyone go white before. She looked as if she was about to throw up.
A slightly older woman with dark hair came running in from the back. At first, she frowned at the commotion, especially when she saw the coffee all over the floor. Then the blonde woman hissed in Russian, “She’s from Luka Malakov!”
Alina stopped dead in her tracks and then swallowed as if she was trying to choke down a football. Her hand played nervously with the necklace at her throat. “You work for Mr. Malakov?” she asked in Russian.
“She’s American!” the younger one said in a terse whisper, still in Russian. Holy shit, there were tears in her eyes. “I think she’s his….” She looked up at her boss with huge, scared eyes. “I was rude to her!”
Alina stared at her and then at me. I actually saw her knees weaken. She spoke in English for the first time. “You are Mr. Malakov’s…” She swallowed again. “You are with Mr. Malakov?”
I nodded, growing more freaked out by the minute.
Alina glanced at her assistant and then at the spilled coffee and smashed mug. She spoke in English, so I knew she wanted me to understand. “Clean this up,” she snapped at the store assistant. “Then collect your things. You’re fired.” She looked back at me, eyes wide with concern, clearly hoping this would appease me.
I was too shocked to react. The scariest thing was that the store assistant didn’t even argue. She just nodded, head down, and ran to fetch cleaning things.
“Please allow me to help you,” said Alina. She stressed the allow me, as if nothing could be a greater honor.
“I—” I was completely freaked out, now. All I wanted to do was run. “I’m not sure I can afford this place.”
Alina reacted as if I’d said I was thinking of drinking bleach. “There’s no charge!” she said, aghast. “We would never charge you!”#p#分页标题#e#
For the next hour, Alina showed me dresses and jeans, jackets and shoes. She picked out long woolen coats for above deck and figure-hugging dresses for below deck. I soon had more clothes than in my closet back home. And then we started on the shoes—towering heels I could barely walk in, but that did wonderful things to my legs and ass.
“And will you be needing...underneath?” asked Alina, her English failing her. She yanked her dress away from her chest and pointed to her bra.
“Um…” I flushed. I hadn’t even thought about lingerie. In my suitcase back at the hotel, I had the same plain briefs and bras I always wore. Would those do? “I don’t know.”
Alina flushed too. “For Mr. Malakov,” she whispered, “I think you need—” She gestured at her breasts and groin in a va-va-voom sort of a way. “Upstairs,” she said.
She led me up to the next floor and shooed away the sales clerk there. She started to bring out artful constructions of lace and satin, mainly in black, purple or red. I didn’t doubt that one of Luka’s blondes would have looked fantastic in them. Was this what Nancy did on assignment: pick out underwear to seduce her target? Or did she have a secret closet full of it in Virginia that she packed into her suitcase along with her guns? I am so out of my depth.
I tried to imagine myself in one of the lingerie sets and couldn’t. Then I remembered what Luka had said. “Do you have anything more...innocent?” I asked, red-faced. “White?”
She blinked at me. “Like bride on night of wedding?”
“Exactly like that. Innocent but good quality and”—am I really having this conversation?— “sexy.”
She nodded quickly, but gave me a look that was almost pitying. Aghast, maybe, at the idea of an innocent in Luka’s hands. She brought out white bras and panties, hold-ups and suspender belts and even a corset. They were all strokably soft and gorgeously made. I told her I’d take them, along with some of the tamer black sets.
When I finally returned downstairs, the coffee was cleaned up and the clothes and shoes had already been packed into my cab. The driver was still waiting patiently for me, even though it had been over an hour. Luka’s money was going to take some getting used to.