Page 18 of Villainous Kingpin
Again, she barely glanced at Wynter. I wondered if she ever even thought of Thalia, her own daughter. Emilia was selfish beyond reason.
“Seven,” Wynter muttered, her shoulders tense while Emilia disappeared to the back of the store.
Holding her hand, we strode toward the sitting area.
“She seems mad,” Wynter whispered with Emilia out of earshot. “Don’t make her more upset.”
Her gaze met mine, and I could see worry swimming in those big eyes.
“Don’t worry about it.”
We’d get the shoes, I’d leave Emilia with extra cash, and we’d be on our way. Let that fucking woman ponder on the consequences of her words and actions.
Her teeth tugged at her bottom lip, her gaze fleeting in the direction of Emilia’s clacking heels. Then she sighed a resigned breath.
“Why does that make me worry more?” Because Wynter had good instincts. “Bas?”
“Yeah.”
“I-I just can’t get in trouble.” Her gaze came back to me. It was an odd comment but I chalked it up to her knowing who I was. If she had looked me up, she’d know trouble followed where I went. “Okay?”
“Principessa, I’ll keep you out of trouble,” I assured her softly. “Nobody will hurt you.”
At that moment, Emilia was back with several boxes, placing them on the little ottoman and opening the first one. Pink designer heels and Wynter’s soft gasp filled the space around me. It seemed Wynter, like many other women, loved shoes.
Emilia handed the shoe to Wynter, but I took it before Wynter could.
“Let me,” I told Wynter.
I dropped to my knees, grabbed her foot and slipped the shoe on. “Look at that. A perfect fit.”
Wynter’s soft chuckle filled the space. “And they don’t disappear at midnight,” she teased. Her gaze traveled to Emilia who watched us like a hawk. It was almost comical. “Your shoe designs are incredible,” Wynter commended her. “I’ve loved them forever.”
“Have you come to this store before?” Emilia questioned her and Wynter shook her head.
“Not to this one,” she explained as I watched the exchange. “I’ve been to the one in San Francisco.”
A second of silence.
“You seem familiar.” Emilia eyed her, as if she was trying to remember something. There was no chance in hell anyone who had seen Wynter, they’d forget her.
“I get that all the time,” Wynter told her.
“Who are your parents?” Emilia continued grilling her and I was about to cut her off, when Wynter answered her.
“Well, my father is dead and my mother’s a sports coach,” Wynter told her, the softness of her voice an unmistakable tale that she cared about her mother. “She’s one of the best. Of course, I’m biased.”
Wynter chuckled but Emilia didn’t bother responding to her and Wynter averted the gaze from her back to me.
“Umm, these are fine. Can we just go?”
I never hurt women. Nor intimidated them. Though I was seriously tempted to do so now. Around Wynter my protectiveness surged tenfold. Emilia made Wynter uncomfortable and I wouldn’t tolerate it. I suspected the warning glare I just bestowed on Emilia came out murderous.
“We’ll take all of them, Emilia. Are there any flats in those boxes?”
“No, no, Bas,” Wynter protested quietly. “It’s too much. Just one pair.”
“Yes, one pair of black and one pair of white flats,” Emilia answered, ignoring Wynter’s protests.
