Page 67 of Untamed

The car is already waiting downstairs, Cindy standing patiently beside it, her hands folded neatly in front of her.

“Where are we going?” I ask, my tone wary as I approach her.

“Rodeo Drive, miss,” she says, smiling with a hint of a sigh like she’s anticipating the fun she’s about to have. “One of my very favorite places to shop, and it’s been a while.”

I blink. Rodeo Drive? As intheRodeo Drive? I’ve heard of it, of course—who hasn’t? The stretch of boutiques that practically screams money, luxury, and exclusivity. A place so far out of my price range that it’s laughable.

I hesitate, glancing at Cindy’s polished appearance. Compared to her chic tailored blazer and heels, my casual skirt and top feel like a poor excuse for “effort.” But at least I wore a skirt, I remind myself. It’s better than the usual jeans and sneakers.

“Well,” I mutter, sliding into the car, “I suppose if Rodion is otherwise occupied, I could handle something like this.”

I think.

“Have you eaten?”

I shake my head warily. What does that have to do with anything?

“Ah. Mr. Kopolov instructed me to feed you first if you hadn’t eaten yet.” She smiles.

I open my mouth to protest becausehow dare he,but when my stomach growls, I remember how starving I am.

Fine, then. Apparently, the first stop is dinner. I suppose I’ll make better decisions on a full belly, and I can assume he’s paying, so…

Cindy ushers me into a sleek, minimalist restaurant with dark wood finishes and glowing pendant lights. The kind of place where the menu doesn’t list prices, just descriptions so elaborate you’d need a dictionary to translate them. I order a gourmet burger and a side of truffle fries because I want to eat fast and get to the shopping.

What Ireallywant is to get tohim,and I think a part of me knows that doing what he planned for me is a good first step.

I’d be lying if I didn’t like the way she swipes her card, and I don’t have to pay for a thing though.

I’m starting to relax—right until I realize she’s not just friendly. She’s efficient. She’s steering this whole outing like she’s orchestrating an event.

When we pull up to Rodeo Drive, my jaw practically hits the ground. I knew it was fancy but seeing it in person is something else entirely.

Every storefront gleams with sleek displays of designer gowns, handbags, and glittering jewelry. I didn’t think I was that intothings,but seeing the gorgeous displays in front of me, I can’thelp but want to reach out and stroke the soft, buttery leather and gleaming diamonds.

Cindy leads the way with a confidence I can’t even fake, gliding into a boutique where we’re immediately greeted with smiles for her and a subtle once-over for me.

“This way, miss,” the attendant says, ushering me toward a row of dresses displayed like works of art.

Cindy picks out a few, her discerning eye scanning me critically but kindly. “You’ve got wonderful proportions,” she says, holding up a stunning deep emerald dress. “This color would bring out your eyes beautifully.”

I almost snort. I’m not used to this kind of flattery, and I’m definitely not used to this level of attention. But I follow her lead, slipping into the dressing room with the kind of hesitation that makes the attendant tilt her head like she’s trying to figure out how I got in here.

Well, she can fuck off. My Bratva boy book boyfriend got me here, so here I am.

The first dress fits like a dream, and I catch myself staring at my reflection, almost not recognizing the woman in the mirror. It makes my cheeks look flushed, my breasts fuller, my waist accentuated, and my curves… wow.

“Champagne?” the attendant asks as I step out to show Cindy. She doesn’t wait for an answer, pressing a delicate flute into my hand before I can refuse. Not that I would. Free champagne?

The bubbles tickle my nose as I sip, letting Cindy fuss with the hem of the dress. I feel out of place, sure, but there’s somethingundeniably thrilling about this—the attention, the indulgence, the way these clothes make me feel like I belong.

Even if I’m just Cinderella in a borrowed dress, I’m going to enjoy it for a little while.

I glance at my phone, hoping for some kind of update from Rodion, but there’s nothing for the first hour of our trip. I finally send him an admittedly petulant little message.

Thanks and all but WHERE are you? Are you alright?

My heart skips when I see a new message.

---