Page 58 of King of Praise
Heading to Violet Confidence now.
Micah
Be careful. Stay alert. Text when you move locations.
The lack of explicit prohibition makes me smile. He’s trying so hard to give me freedom while ensuring my safety.
“All clear,” I tell Olivia, tucking the phone away. “Lead on.”
Outside, the cold pushes past my coat and permeates my skin. Snow threatens in the heavy clouds above, but for now the sky broods with unfulfilled promise. Olivia links her arm through mine as we navigate the short distance to Violet Confidence, her designer boots clicking purposefully on the sidewalk.
The boutique embodies luxury—soft lighting, plush carpeting, attentive staff offering champagne to browsers. Lydia spots us immediately, her face lighting with genuine pleasure as she abandons her position at the register. Her petite framepractically disappears in our three-way hug, enthusiasm evident in rapid-fire questions and observations.
“Oh my God, I’ve missed you.” She squeezes me tight. “You need to come out more. You look amazing.”
Unlike Olivia’s carefully curated sophistication, Lydia radiates authentic warmth. Her hazel eyes crinkle at the corners when she smiles, and her hug feels like coming home.
I chuckle. “You saw me at the last support group meeting.”
“Not enough.” She shakes her head. “You need to join us more often. We worry.”
“I’m fine,” I assure her. “Really. Just laying low for a while.”
Understanding flashes across her features. As another survivor of domestic violence, she gets it. “Well, you’re safe now. That’s what matters.”
“And she needs new clothes,” Olivia interjects. “Something that makes her feel as beautiful as she is.”
What begins as casual browsing transforms into an impromptu fashion show. In the private dressing room, surrounded by silks and cashmeres in jewel tones, I find myself relaxing for the first time since leaving the cabin. The simple pleasure of beautiful clothes, female companionship, and momentary escape from my circumstances creates a bubble of fun I haven’t experienced in months.
Olivia proves to have an excellent eye, choosing pieces that complement my coloring and body type. The emerald dress she mentioned fits like it was made for me, the silk draping in elegant lines that emphasize my curves without being overtly sexual. When I emerge from the dressing room, both women gasp appreciatively.
“Girl,” Lydia breathes, “you look incredible.”
Olivia leans close and whispers so only I can hear, “Micah won’t know what hit him.” Then she gives me a knowing smirk.
Heat rises to my cheeks. “I don’t know if I should.”
“You absolutely should.” Olivia won’t take my no for an answer. “In fact, you need lingerie to match. Something that makes you feel powerful.”
The suggestion sends a shiver through me. Lucas always chose my underwear—tacky, overly sexual pieces that made me feel like a commodity. The idea of choosing for myself, of wearing something that makes me feel beautiful rather than exposed, holds powerful appeal.
In the privacy of the dressing room, while Lydia helps other customers, Olivia helps me select delicate pieces. The blush-pink set with subtle lace detailing feels both innocent and alluring, designed to enhance rather than transform. When I study my reflection, I hardly recognize myself. Gone is the fearful woman who hid her body from her husband’s critical gaze. In her place stands someone confident, someone worthy of desire.
“Perfect,” Olivia declares. “Though I bet Micah prefers you in nothing at all.”
I blush but don’t deny it. After a moment’s hesitation, I confide in her. “He’s so gentle with me. Even when he’s being dominant, I never feel afraid.”
“That’s because he respects you.” She meets my eyes in the mirror. “Real dominance comes from a place of care, not control. Lucas wanted to own you. Micah wants to protect you.”
Her insight strikes deep. “It should be weird, right? Being with my dead husband’s father?”
“And I’m the ex-wife of a mafia capo currently making eyes at Zeke King’s younger brother. Trust me, conventional relationships are overrated.”
This startles a laugh from me. “You and Sebastian? Really?”
Now it’s her turn to blush. “Maybe. Possibly. He’s interesting.”
“Interesting?” I tease. “That’s not what I’ve heard about him.”
