One drawer lower has…damn.
“Lingerie” doesn’t quite do it justice. It’s like someone’s bought the entire Agent Provocateur line, or some other crazy high-end French brand.
For some reason, it doesn’t surprise me when I realize it’s all in my perfect sizes.
All. Of. It.
Across the room, there’s a door that slides open to reveal an entire wall of shelves with the most jaw-dropping shoes and heels imaginable. Also my size.
“I hope they fit.”
I whirl, gasping as my heart lurches into my throat and I lock eyes with Drazen.
Instantly, whatever devil-may-care attitude I had about him seeing me naked after last night goes out the window. With a small shriek, I spin back and grab the first thing I see—a light, gauzy, lacy robe. I turn my back to him, blushing furiously and feeling his eyes on me as I slip it on, tie it, and turn to glare at him.
“Oh, yes, much more modest.”
I glance down, and my face falls.
Goddammit.
The fucking thing is completely see-through, giving him an eyeful of, well, everything. Scowling, I grab the next thing I see—a random sundress—and wrap it around myself like a makeshift sarong.
When I turn back to him, Drazen has a smug look on his face.
“Do you need a minute?”
“A few hundred of them would be peachy, thanks,” I mutter through clenched teeth.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
He’s dressed in very Mediterranean-style cream linen dress pants and a white shirt with a few buttons open and the sleeves rolled up.
I mean, holy casual formal-wear porn, Batman.
He eyes me cooly but intensely, like he’s peering into my very thoughts. It’s extremely unnerving.
“Yes?” I mumble.
“Do they meet your standards?”
I gesture at the closet. “What, all this?”
He says nothing.
“I mean, it’s only the top designers in the world. Whose standards wouldn’t they meet?” My mouth purses. “And I think we both know that it will all fit just fine.”
“You’re welcome.”
My lips thin. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”
“You’re going to need it, though.”
I eye him. “Why?”
“I won’t have my wife walking around naked.”
The room goes quiet.