She felt . . . humiliated.
She jumped, her pulse accelerating when a phone rang next to her on the bed. She glanced warily, looking for the source, to see an expensive high-tech cell phone that would take her a year to save for and was definitely a frivolous expenditure. She glanced back at the note to read further and saw that Drake had informed her the phone was hers and that he would be calling her later in the morning.
She tentatively picked up the phone, hoping she was hitting the right button, and murmured a hesitant hello. His answer was crisp, businesslike.
“Justice is on his way. He may already be there. He’s taking you shopping.”
She felt an unexpected sense of disappointment that it wasn’t Maddox. He had been the nicest to her and wasn’t quite as intimidating as some of the other men Drake worked with. And then she shook her head because she was crazy. They were all dangerous and complete strangers to her, and yet she was to trust them because Drake instructed her to.
She hesitated and bit into her bottom lip, bothered that she was even required to go on a shopping trip. If she wasn’t good enough for him as she was, then she sure as hell wasn’t going to change everything about her just so she met his standards. Whatever the hell they were since he hadn’t exactly been forthcoming on those yet.
He seemed to pick up on her sudden silence, and she wondered if she should add mind reading to his growing list of accomplishments, though it appeared as though there was nothing he couldn’t do or accomplish. But then money, or rather having money, lots of money, seemed to come with a completely different set of rules and parameters that favored the “haves” over the “have-nots.”
“What’s wrong, Angel?” he asked in a soft voice that suggested he would not be pleased nor would he believe her if she simply said nothing or pretended that he was imagining things. It would be an insult to his superior intelligence.
She flinched, not wanting to get into what was bothering her.
In a subdued, quiet voice she responded. “Why did you throw away all my clothing, even my underwear and my shoes? If I’m not good enough for you the way I am, then why would you want to change me into something I’m not? It wouldn’t be real. Unless that’s what you want and any woman would do. A woman you play dress-up with like a doll and make her ‘good enough’ to be seen with you. I’m proud of who and what I am,” she said fiercely. “I paid for every single item of clothing you thoughtlessly threw away. I liked them. More importantly, nobody bought them for me or gave them to me. I worked for everything I have and by throwing practically everything I own away you sent the message loud and clear that I’m not good enough, and you’re sending one of your minions shopping with me so I don’t embarrass you in front of others.”#p#分页标题#e#
The line went silent, and she tensed because she could practically feel his seething anger through the phone. She swallowed nervously and closed her eyes, thinking that maybe he would be just pissed off enough to wash his hands of her now and let her go back home.
Instead, he sighed, and she imagined him running an agitated hand through his hair, his lips set into that firm grimace that made him look so intimidating.
“Angel, the clothes you have are shit. Now don’t get me wrong. You being you and as beautiful as you are, you rock that look. But other women would never be able to pull off your kind of shine in shit clothing. This has nothing to do with you embarrassing me, and it sure as fuck has nothing to do with you not being good enough for me. It has everything to do with the fact that you’re mine now and I take care of what belongs to me. Which means that what you wear, the shoes, the jeans or dresses, and especially the underwear, I pay for. I wanted to do something nice for you and you need nicer clothing, not shit you had to walk into a fucking charity shop to buy. My woman will never wear anything that’s been worn by another woman. Period. So get that fucked-up shit about you not being good enough or you embarrassing me out of your head right now or you’re just going to piss me off. Because it’s complete bullshit and I won’t have you thinking it every time you put on something I bought for you.”
Evangeline was stunned into silence and sat on the edge of the bed, mouth gaping open. This time, however, he didn’t take her silence as her being upset or angry, as he’d picked up on her earlier silence. How the hell could the man tell when he needed to address something when he wasn’t even within a mile of her, much less able to see her or gauge her body language or facial expressions?