Page 55 of Savage Reign

“A private boutique,” Nikolai says, slipping off his sunglasses and tossing them onto the dashboard. “The owner is an Italian woman named Valeria. She caters to people like me.”

“Assholes?”

His lips twitch. “People with refined tastes who value discretion.”

Like a perfect gentleman, Nikolai opens my door and then leads me inside. The interior couldn’t be more different from the plain exterior. It’s elegant and inviting, with plush velvet chairs and crystal chandeliers.

Within seconds, two women glide toward us, their faces lit up as though they’ve spotted royalty.

“Niko. What a pleasant surprise. I wasn’t expecting you.” A petite woman in her forties, with a heart-shaped face and friendly eyes, steps forward and kisses him on the cheek.

“Sofiya, this is Valeria, the owner of the boutique. And, Valeria, this is Sofiya, my wife.”

Her eyes widen, and she blinks rapidly. “Wife?”

“It’s new,” Nikolai offers.

“Of course,” she says, recovering quickly. “Congratulations to you both.”

“It’s not really a congratulations situation,” I clarify. “More like condolences.”

Nikolai barks out a laugh while Valeria looks momentarily stunned. “My wife has an interesting sense of humor,” he says, swatting my ass in warning. I flash him a sugary-sweet smile.

“We’re here for Sofiya today, not me.”

Valeria releases a nervous titter and then shifts her attention to me. “All right, Sofiya. What are you looking for?”

I shrug. “I only need a few things. The basics.” What do I need to look good for? I don’t leave the estate. As confident as Nikolai seems that Roman will cave to his deal, I know better. The Syndicate will find a way to get me out. Somehow. I hope.

Nikolai runs a finger down the center of his lips. “I thought you wanted to bankrupt me?”

I give a half shrug. “Can’t be bothered.”

“Oh, come on. Are you honestly going to give up that easily?” He cups my chin, meeting my gaze. “Go wild. Whatever you want—it’s all yours. And trust me, nothing in here is cheap. Hell, buy two of everything just to piss me off.”

I raise a brow. If he feels so strongly, I’m game.

“In that case.” I cross my arms and glance at Valeria. “I need a whole new wardrobe. Head to toe. Your most luxurious pieces—cashmere, silk, suede. If it doesn’t have a string of zeros on the price tag, don’t bother showing it to me.”

“Very good.” Valeria reacts as though this is the most normal request she’s ever heard. She steps back and gives me a thorough once-over as if taking my measurements by sight alone. With a bright smile, she claps her hands. “Why don’t you head to the back fitting room? My staff and I will bring everything to you.”

“That's fine. I'm happy to go through the racks on my own.”

Valeria holds up a palm. “Absolutely not. You relax. It’s my job to find you beautiful clothes.”

“Thank you, Valeria. I’ll show my wife to the fitting area,” Nikolai says.

With a possessive hand on my lower back, he leads me through the luxurious store to a fitting area, where the walls are adorned with velvet wallpaper. The air is scented with expensive perfume, and one section is entirely covered in mirrors.

One of Valeria’s assistants enters the room with snacks and champagne, offering both to us, but I wave her off, having eaten breakfast recently. They are obviously pulling out all the stops for Nikolai and his deep pockets.

I sink onto a cushioned bench, chewing on my thumbnail—a nervous habit I’ve never been able to kick. Nikolai, of course, notices. He leans in, gently pulls my nail from my mouth, and traps my hand in his. I try to tug it free, but his grip is firm and warm. God, his hands are so big.

“Such a bad habit,” he scolds softly. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

He gives me a pointed look, the kind that saysdon’t bullshit me.

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