Page 20 of Her Innocent CEO

I’m happy to stay in the suite, in bed with Maddox for weeks. But there’s something about the allure of a shopping trip, plus him on my arm that makes me feel a different sort of excitement.

“Are you sure?” I ask him again. “About spending all this money? I mean, that came out wrong,” I tell him. “I didn’t mean all this money.”

But Maddox only laughs, hooking his arms around my waist and spinning me around.

“Jasmine that’s pocket money. We’ve got way more than that, so you don’t need to worry about it. Today’s our special day… in spite of everything else. I want to have fun, okay?” he asks, cocking his brow in mock seriousness.

“Okay,” I tell him and he lifts my face to his by my chin.

“That settles it, we’ll have to spend all this money, just to prove my point,” he adds with a devilish grin before kissing me again, making my heart flutter with excitement.

The amount is nothing to him, but to me… its months’ worth of wages. Something I’ve always perceived as a hell of a lot of money.

There’s no need to take my car, the hotel’s right on the fringe of a major designer shopping area. Something else that’s new to me, but for Maddox it’s just another day in the life.

Once we slip past reception, his arm takes mine and I find myself leaning in closer to him with every step as we get closer to the huge shimmering shopping mall with it’s vast open spaces, designer stores and intimidating people, people who look like they just stepped out of a magazine.

My old work clothes look out of place, but it surprises me how little attention anyone really pays us, they’re all too busy watching themselves in storefront windows, taking selfies or filming their latest influencer video.

“We can start here first,” Maddox suggests, taking us into a very un-glamorous looking store, which I discover is a branch for his tailor.

He orders some new suits, which they’ll have ready in the hour and then we’re off to the recommendation from his tailor to where I can find something suitable.

“Giovanni’s,” the older gentleman says, matter of fact when Maddox asks for his suggestion, and Maddox smacks his lips, exclaiming something in Italian before leading me out of the store again.

Like his tailor, there’s little, almost unmarked shops and storefronts between the major chains and designers, each with a knowing look in the owner’s eye as their regular clients come in for a fitting or to have something special made for any occasion.

The prospect of having anyone measure me up for clothes horrifies me, and Maddox laughs out loud when I suggest we can just go someplace cheaper and get something off the rack.

“Get used to it, baby,” he says reassuringly. “Trust me once you get clothes that are made for you you’ll never wear anything else. Even though I prefer you in your birthday suit,” he says with a sly wink, pinching me gently on the ass and smiling.

“It’ll be fine, Jasmine,” he says again, reassuring me with a gentler squeeze, allowing for my nerves.

And as usual, Maddox Mapleton is right.

After a few tense moments with an older sales assistant who looks me up and down, I’m led to a private room where she measures me up and asks me some pretty personal sounding questions, but once I see why it all makes sense.

I turn, expecting to see Maddox with us but he’s not there.

My heart gives a little stab of fear, but I remind myself I’m just here to get some clothes.

“We have a few things here, off the rack,” she adds with a wistful smile.

“A client, she changed her mind and here they are, very much your fit but I’m not sure your style?” she asks with a sigh, jotting down some more notes of my measurements and waving her hand towards a rack with several outfits.

“It will do until we can have something made up in a day or two,” she adds, without looking up.

I grab the first thing I see, a blue top that sparkles and some slacks that have a matching color but different material. There’s even a pair of shoes that fit.

I try the outfit on, surprised at how well it fits as Maddox’s words echo through my mind, even though this is still technically off the rack.

I timidly step out, and seeing the old woman’s stern nod of approval before she circles me, pinching the fabric here and there, she asks what I think.

“It’s beautiful,” I tell her honestly. “It feels like I’m not wearing anything though.” Which is true, even though I can see I’m covered up pretty well, even looking a little trimmer I tell myself.

She bags up the clothes I had on, handling them with the same care and respect as her own creations, and I heave a sigh of relief once I see Maddox slip back into the store, tucking something into his new suit’s jacket pocket.

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