Page 165 of Forbidden Lessons

“Yes, please. We’re attending a black-tie gala tonight, and we just found out our dry cleaning won’t be ready in time.”

Jennifer’s eyes light up, and I bet she wished she knew the name of the cleaner so she could send them a handwritten thank you note.

“Yes, yes, of course. We just received a stunning selection of gowns. Right this way.”

As soon as Jennifer turns her back, I grab Bastian’s arm. He turns to me, lips curling up. “Is there a problem?”

Lucifer must have taught this man how to smile.

“Yes, there’s a problem!” I whisper-shout. “I’m not going to this stupid fundraiser.”

“Because you don’t have a dress.” He walks after Jennifer, turning to raise his hands to the ceiling. “Problem solved.”

“That’s not why—“ I cut off because he’s already out of earshot. Unless I shout. And the cashier is staring over at me like she’s wondering if I’m going to pocket one of the shiny clutch bags I’m standing beside.

Fuck.

I hurry after Bastian, trying to get his attention without looking like a spoiled brat in need of a timeout. It doesn’t help that he’s having a full on conversation in fashionese.

I mean, I know what a silhouette is. I can guess at jewel tones.

But what the hell is an elliesaab? Is it some fancy fabric? A designer? A type of shoe?

“Bastian!” I grab his arm at the same time he turns to me, and my hand sort of slides into his now crooked elbow. I think we’re both a little surprised, because it was obviously just an automatic gesture for him.

Instead of shaking me off, he pulls his arm against his side, trapping me in place. Smiling. Eyes sparkling in the low light of the pretty chandelier above us.

Now’s when I’m supposed to be telling him I have a shift at the diner. That I don’t want to go to this gala because I’ll make an idiot of myself. That I can think of a hundred better ways to spend my time…but his eyes are too mesmerizing.

“And for you, sir?”

He turns back to Jennifer. “Let’s start with her.”

Let’s fucking not.

But then I’m being pulled along as Bastian follows the shop assistant to a fitting room near the back of the store. I feel like I’m in some Disney princess movie, because I walk straight into a huge fitting room followed by the store clerk with three gowns in her arms.

Had she just been plucking them randomly from the racks as we walked? Or had a flock of bluebirds brought them to her?

“Here we go, love. Just shout if you need a hand zipping up.” She smiles and twirls away, pulling the curtain closed behind me.

I plop down on the velvet upholstered stool and take a big breath. Then I kick off my flip-flops so I can enjoy the feel of the plush carpet between my toes.

How does this keep happening?

…or are you just not used to getting nice things?

Shit. Maybe he’s right. I don’t know what generosity feels like. I’ve had to fight and claw for every scrap I ever got. Even Kai’s generosity felt reluctant most of the time. But that’s because he had to carve his own way out in his house, too. Everything was given to Ezra, the wonder child, and Kai’s father, the genius.

Kai never told me how they’d ended up in the same trailer park as me and my dad, but he’d said it was temporary.

I didn’t believe him until he was gone.

Now I’m sitting here in the fitting room of a designer boutique and I don’t have a fucking clue what I’m doing.

I don’t belong here. And this has nothing to do with imposter syndrome.

Iaman imposter.

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