Page 133 of Picture Perfect

"Where are we going?" There's a lilt of curiosity in her voice as she falls into step beside me.

"Anywhere you want." I smirk down at her, the idea of spoiling her sending a thrill through me. "Well, anywhere Gen wants."

She laughs, a sound that seems too pure for this messed-up world we're living in. "I don't need much, Saint. But I like the sound of that."

"Good." I steer her toward Gen who is waiting to take Princess over to the row of shops, each storefront promising luxury and indulgence. "Because I'm going to enjoy every second of it."

I trail behind Gen and Princess, their voices a soft hum ahead of us. Princess's hands flutter like caged birds as she gestures to the mannequins decked out in the latest fashions, her excitement palpable even from a distance. Yet, despite the animation in her voice, I catch the slight pallor, the hint of seafoam green that's washed over her usual porcelain complexion. She's nervous; I can tell by the way she gnaws on her bottom lip, an action so subtle anyone else might miss it.

"Saint?" Chess nudges me, tilting his head toward the storefronts we pass. "You zoning out on us?"

"Thinking," I admit, my gaze not leaving Princess's back.

Dre falls into step beside me, his scars a stark contrast against the pale skin of his arms. "You do too much of that. What's up?"

"Nothing," I lie smoothly, then shift the topic to more pressing matters. "What're we gonna do about Wes and Preston? Can't let that slide."

"Handled," Chess assures with a dark glint in his hazel eyes that tells me he's already spinning webs in his mind. "Just need to pull the right strings."

"Make it sting," Dre says with a coldness that belies his angelic looks. "They deserve it for what they pulled in the bathroom."

"Agreed." I clench my fists, remembering how close they'd come to hurting her—my Princess. Never again. Not while I'm breathing.

Gen suddenly spins around, her arms spread wide as if embracing the world. "Okay, team! First store—" She points to a boutique that looks like it's straight out of Paris. "Addy needs the full experience."

"Got a plan, Gen?" I ask, nodding toward the boutique.

"Always." She grins, wicked and brilliant. "We hit them hard and fast. In and out. No mercy."

"Sounds like a battle strategy," Dre says with a chuckle.

"Shopping is a battle," Gen fires back, but her smile softens when she looks at her. "But this one's worth every fight."

The blush on Princess's cheeks is fucking adorable. My fingers itch to reach out for her, but I curl them into my palm.

"Let's do this." I push off from the wall I hadn't realized I'd been leaning against, ready to face whatever comes next. For Princess, I'd walk through fire. Or, in this case, a series of high-end boutiques.

"Lead the way, General," Chess quips, saluting Gen playfully before following her charge into the first store.

As we move, I feel the weight of responsibility settle on my shoulders. We're not just picking out clothes. We're creating armor, building confidence—for Princess. My job is to make sure she shines, like the queen she is. My queen. Temporary or not, she'll know she's royalty today.

The boutique is a whirlwind of silks and satins, a symphony of rustling fabrics as Gen flits from rack to rack, her hands a blur. Princess's eyes are wide as saucers, her gaze darting after Gen like she's trying to follow the flight of a particularly vibrant hummingbird.

"Saint, look at this one," Chess calls out, holding up a deep red dress that promises to hug every curve it touches. Dre chimes in with a leather jacket that's all attitude and defiance.

"For when she wants to feel badass," he says, winking at Princess.

"Guys, slow down," I say. "She's overwhelmed."

"Sorry, Addy," Gen says, suddenly by her side. "We're just excited."

Princess gives a small smile, but it doesn't quite reach those guarded green eyes. "It's okay. I just... don't really know what I like."

"Then we'll find out together," I tell her, plucking a soft cashmere sweater from a nearby table. "This would be warm. Comfortable."

"Comfortable can be chic," Gen approves, adding a pair of sleek boots to the growing pile in my arms.

I catch Princess's eye and there's a flicker of something like gratitude before she looks away, disappearing behind the curtain into the world of mirrors and hangers.

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