Page 20 of Tempting Frankie
The car slows and I realize we're in a part of the city I've only seen in magazines. Full of gilded storefronts and impossibly thin women toting shopping bags worth more than I make in a year.
“What are we doing here?” I ask, frowning as the driver pulls up to the curb.
Alexander finally turns to me, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Shopping.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Shopping? Seriously?”
He nods, already reaching for the door handle. “Come.”
He extends his hand, and I follow him out onto the sidewalk. The warm spring air hits me, carrying the scent of nearby flowers and expensive perfume. A couple of well-dressed women give us curious looks as they pass.
Suddenly I feel like Vivian and he’s Edward.
“Alexander,” I hiss, suddenly aware of how out of place I must look. “Why are we shopping here?”
He places a hand on the small of my back, guiding me toward one of the boutiques. “Getting you a new wardrobe, of course.”
I dig my heels in, forcing him to stop. “What? No. I don't need?—”
“Francesca,” he cuts me off, his voice gentle but firm. “I'm taking care of all your needs now, remember? That includes clothing.”
I cross my arms, scowling. “So, what, you're going to dress me up like some kind of doll? Pick out all my clothes for me?”
To my surprise, Alexander laughs. “I could,” he admits, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “And I won't lie. The thought is appealing. Lord knows I have the taste and the means to do so.”
I bristle at that, opening my mouth to tell him exactly where he can shove his 'taste', but he holds up a hand.
“However,” he continues, “I want you to have whatever you want, whatever makes you feel good. We're going to shop together.”
I blink, thrown off guard. “I…what?”
Alexander's eyes soften, and he reaches out to tuck a stray curl behind my ear. The gesture is oddly tender, and I have to fight the urge to lean into his touch.
Do not fucking get attached to this man, bitch.
“Francesca,” he says, his voice low and intimate. “I meant what I said about taking care of your needs. All of them. That includes making sure you feel confident and comfortable in your own skin.”
I swallow hard, unsure how to respond. This isn't what I expected at all.
“Besides,” he adds with a wicked grin, “I'm rather looking forward to watching you try things on.”
I swallow hard, my cheeks burning as I follow Alexander into the first boutique. The saleswoman's eyes widen when she sees him, practically tripping over herself to greet us. I hang back, fingering the racks of impossibly tiny dresses and blouses.
“See anything you like?” Alexander murmurs in my ear.
I shake my head, moving on to the next store. And the next. And the next. Each one is the same—racks of size zeros and twos, stick-thin mannequins mocking me with their jutting collarbones and thigh gaps.
After an hour of this, Alexander pulls me to a stop outside yet another designer shop. “Alright, what's going on? You haven't even tried anything on.”
I laugh, but it comes out bitter and harsh. “What's wrong? Are you fucking blind, Alexander? None of this shit is going to fit me. I'm not exactly sample size; in case you hadn't noticed.”
His brows furrow and he scoffs. “That's ridiculous. There has to be?—”
“There's not,” I snap, finally meeting his gaze. “Trust me, places like this don't make stuff for girls built like me.”
Alexander's jaw tightens, a muscle ticking in his cheek. Without a word, he pulls out his phone and steps away, speaking in low, clipped tones. I lean against the storefront, arms crossed defensively over my chest. God, this was such a mistake. What the hell was I thinking, agreeing to this insane arrangement?
A warm hand on my lower back startles me out of my spiral. “Come with me,” Alexander says, guiding me down the street. We stop in front of a chic boutique, its windows dark and a “Closed” sign hanging in the door.
