Page 16 of The Last Morgan
He groaned, rubbing his temples like she had just suggested they run a marathon barefoot.
“Lucy, we have more important things to do than waste time in designer stores.”
She looped her arm through his and started dragging him toward the car.
“Correction. You think it’s a waste of time. But trust me, if I’m going to walk into that company and take back what’s mine, I need to look the part. And so do you.”
Corey sighed but didn’t resist, they drove toward the most luxurious shopping district in the city. The streets were lined with boutiques featuring names Lucy barely recognized — yet somehow owned shares in.
As soon as they pulled up, a valet took the car, and they strolled into the first high-end store.
The moment they walked in, a thin woman with sharp cheekbones and an air of superiority gave them a quick once-over, her lips pursing. The woman barely concealed her disapproval as she walked over, her posture stiff with entitlement.
“I’m sorry, but we cater to a very exclusive clientele. Perhaps you’d be more comfortable elsewhere,” she said, her tone dripping with condescension.
Corey stiffened beside Lucy, his eyes narrowing.
Lucy simply smiled, reached into her bag, and pulled out her freshly issued bank card, flipping it between her fingers before handing it over. “I’m sorry,” she said sweetly. “I forgot to mention — I am your exclusive clientele.”
The woman’s face paled as she glanced down at the name on the card. Her eyes widened in horror as realisation dawned.
“Miss Morgan, I had no idea,” she stammered. “Please, allow me to personally assist you—”
Lucy snatched the card back. “No need,” she said coolly. “I think I’ll take my business elsewhere.”
Turning on her heel, she strode out, Corey following closely behind, trying his best not to laugh.
“Damn, that was satisfying,” he said, shaking his head. “That’ll teach them to judge someone by their appearance,” Lucy muttered. “Let’s find another store — one that actually values its customers.”
The next boutique they entered was much more welcoming. A stylish woman greeted them with genuine enthusiasm, and Lucy was immediately whisked into a private fitting area where an array of outfits was brought out for her to try.
Luxurious silks, tailored blazers, body-hugging dresses — each piece screamed power and elegance.
After cycling through several looks, she settled on a tailored navy-blue pantsuit with gold buttons and a white silk blouse.It was sharp, commanding, and paired perfectly with nude stilettos.
For something more casual, she chose a deep emerald wrap dress that hugged her figure in all the right places.
Then it was Corey’s turn.
“Oh no,” he protested. “Absolutely not.”
“Oh yes,” Lucy countered, pushing him into the fitting room with an armful of clothes. “If I’m going to look the part, so are you.”
He came out in a perfectly tailored black suit — the kind that made him look less like her overprotective shadow and more like a high-powered executive- overprotective shadow.
“Damn,” she said, giving him an appreciative once-over. “You clean up well.”
Corey tugged at the tie uncomfortably. “I feel ridiculous.”
“You look amazing,” she insisted. “Now we just need to get our hair done.”
Before he could protest, she had already dragged him to a salon a few shops down.
The moment they stepped inside, they were greeted with the scent of expensive shampoo and the hum of soft jazz music.
“Miss Morgan, welcome,” a stylist said, guiding them to plush chairs.
Lucy decided on a sleek blowout, her hair cascading in soft waves that framed her face perfectly. As for Corey, they cleaned up his usual rugged look, shaping his hair to give him a more polished edge.
