Page 100 of Brutal Legacy

“Sorry for caring if you waste your money,” she snapped back at me.

She took a step away, and I tugged her back, just hard enough that she fell into my chest. I wrapped my other arm around her back and guided her against the railing just behind her.

“I’ve told you often enough that I’m not the Elio you used to know. I’m not some penniless hustler anymore… My time is more valuable than anything in this store.”

She huffed.

“Roll your eyes at me right now, and I’ll take you into a changing room and fuck your smart little mouth.”

Her shocked eyes flew to mine.Where the fuck had that come from?Shit. The ability to hold back from all the things I wanted to do to her was crumbling.

Her cheeks warmed, turning a pretty pink. Her eyes slid from mine.

“Right. Like you’d dare do that here… and besides, I’d bite it right off.”

“I’m sure. Let’s not test that theory. Get a move on, or I’ll choose whatever I want you to wear.” Just the thought of picking out the sexiest clothes from the store and forcing Georgia to wear them around me was a fucking turn-on. It was only ruined by the fact that if anyone else saw her in them, I’d have to carve their eyes out. I just didn’t have the manpower to go through them in those quantities.

“Big talk, Santori,” she blustered, pushing me back.

I let her go. She was fully blushing now. Mytopolinawas unsettled. That wasn’t like her at all. I enjoyed every moment of her loss of composure. Considering how she was driving me slowly insane, it was only fair.

She started to hang things on the rack the assistants had left for her. When she was done, we headed toward the changing rooms.

The assistant hung the clothes inside and then held the heavy velvet curtain back for Georgia.

She hesitated, looking to me. I took hold of the curtain and stepped into the changing space, pulling Georgia with me.

“I’ll take it from here,” I told the shocked assistant.

“We — actually, we have a one-person-per-room policy,” the assistant stammered.

“But you’re making an exception for us,” I told her firmly and shut the curtain in her face.

Georgia stepped back, and our bound wrists pulled taut.

“What now? She’s going to think we’re hooking up in here,” she hissed.

“You’re handcuffed to the man who forced you to marry him, and that’s what you’re worried about?”

“Well, I can’t try things on with one hand,” she said.

I conceded that, undoing the handcuffs around our wrists and tucking them in my pocket.

“I’ll be right outside. There are no other exits, and I am armed.”

“Of course you are, Mr. Mercenary.” She turned around to yank a black jumper from a hanger.

I eyed the clothes on the rack.

“Everything is black… trying to tell me something?”

“Just dressing for my mood.” She shot me a faux sweet smile and started to unbutton the shirt she’d borrowed from me. “We can match.” She looked me up and down. She had a good point.

“Well, are you going to give me some privacy?”

I stepped out of the curtained changing room and settled onto the settee right outside. An assistant hovered near my side. Georgia in black didn’t seem right. When she’d made her own dresses, they were all bright colors and patterns. My memories of her were all lemons and cherries in the dappled sun.

I waved a hand at the rest of the shop. “Can you guess her size from the things she took to try on?”

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