I leave the store with a small smile, despite being caught. I’ll let him have that simply because I have no other choice, but he’s not getting away with it that easily.
You’re sneaky, Mr. Stone. Nice move.
I tuck my cell back into my pocket and enter the Galleria. And holy crap! Is there a place in this city not completely shrouded in beauty? The glass ceiling stretches high above me, and I’m surrounded by the elite shops, old and at home in this Italian city.
Prada looms before me, and there’s something magical about knowing I’m standing in front of the very first store. Chanel might be my preference of label, if only because of the country in which it started, but Prada is a close second.
My feet pull me toward the store like a moth flies toward a light. There’s no hesitation… Wait, can I fit anything else in my closet? Or my suitcases? Never mind. I don’t plan to buy. I plan to look and touch and dream.
I think this over and over. Look and touch and dream. Look and touch and dream. Look and touch and dream.
Yep. I will behave, especially since I don’t have my card. As much as Aaron— and Monique—says that he has to pay for everything, I disagree. The strong, independent woman in me balks at the very idea.
Clothes. Everywhere. Shoes. Purses. Coats. Dresses.
Oh. This store is like a little slice of heaven set in a very large pie.
“Mi scusi, signora,” a gentle voice says from behind me. “Sei Signora Black?”
My eyes widen, and I turn to face a young blond-haired woman. “I’m Miss Black, yes, but I’m afraid I don’t speak Italian.”
She beams. “No problem. We have a message for you from Signor Stone.”
I think my eyebrows just met my hairline. “You do?”
“Si.” She nods. “He ask that we tell you to purchase anything you like and charge the account.”
Of course he did. Why wouldn’t he? And more to the point, why wouldn’t he have an account at Prada?
“Right.” I laugh uncomfortably. “Please don’t think I’m being rude—that isn’t my intention—but how did you know it was me?”
Her smile widens a little. “He send us a picture this morning.”
Of course he f**king did.
“He say you’re very important to him.”
I’m gonna kill him.
“Well, thank you…” I glance at her tag. “Adelina. I’m just here to browse, so I won’t be needing Mr. Stone’s account today.”
“Well, um, Signora Black, he ask you don’t leave without something.”
I take a deep breath and note the wringing of her hands. She’s clearly new and not cut out for this job.
“Okay. Could I speak to your manager?”
She nods and disappears in the back of the store. What the f**k? Is this real? Walk into a random store and get told I have to buy something on someone else’s account?
I pull out my cell and open the unread message.
Surprise…
Surprise? I’ll give you a f**king surprise next time you’re naked and turn your back! I fire the message back, and the response is immediate.
Enjoy Prada… Their SS14 collection is beautiful.
Asshole.
I shove it back in my purse in time to notice the tall, dark-haired woman approaching me. She’s as thin as a stick and pinches her lips when she looks at me. I know exactly what she’s thinking—I’m not what she expected.
God forbid anyone with a couple of extra pounds on their ass should walk into Prada and ask for the manager.
“Signora Black, how can I help you?” The manager clasps her hands in front of her stomach.
I meet her mildly disapproving look. Friendly lady. “Adelina here has just informed me I’m not to leave without a purchase on Mr. Stone’s account. Is this correct?”
“Si. He called this morning and was very specific.”
“I understand. Do you have somewhere I can go to call him in private?”
She nods and leads me to the staff area at the back without a word. She pauses at the door and looks me over, her dark eyes calculating. “Forgive me for saying so, but you aren’t what I expected.”
“Excuse me?” I spin, but she’s already gone.
If it’s really about the ass thing, she could do with a candy bar or two.
I dial Aaron’s number and hope he picks up. I don’t have any of the office numbers—I don’t need them. I don’t usually have to call him to chew out his ass about this kind of crap.
“Find anything nice?”
“In Prada? So far all I have is a shy sales girl and an absolute bitch of a manager who has a vendetta about the extra three pounds on my ass.”
His laugh warms my annoyed body. “I like those extra three pounds.”
“That’s where you’re supposed to say, ‘Extra pounds? What extra pounds?’” I snort. “That’s not the point. I’m not allowed to leave without buying something?”
“Oh, good. They told you.”
“Uh, yeah, they told me, and I’m pissed.”
He says nothing, a heavy silence lingering between us.
“You don’t get to do that, Aaron.” And it clicks. “Holy shit. You told the concierge to send me here, didn’t you?”
“No. I merely suggested it in case you should ask what’s worth seeing. Telling you was his choice, Dayton.”
“Don’t blame this on the concierge with the nice ass.”
“Watch your mouth, woman.”
“Then don’t piss me off.” I grit my teeth. “What if I don’t like anything here?”
“Then you can buy the fitted black dress.”
I’m not even going to think about how he knows a specific item. “It sounds like you’ve already decided for me.”
“It’s reserved for you.”
“You’re a presumptuous bastard, aren’t you?”
“She’s learning.” He chuckles. “Get the dress.”
“No.”
“Get the f**king dress, Dayton. End of discussion.”
“And if I don’t?” I click my tongue.
“I’ll arrange for it to be delivered to the hotel tomorrow. You may as well save me the trouble since you’re there.”
I exhale loudly and rub my temple. “Controlling isn’t a good look on you.”
I hang up and drop my phone into my purse. Again. I’m like a jack-in-the-box where he’s concerned. The Jack is my temper and he’s the lever, winding and winding and winding until I snap.