Page 49 of Tainted Princess
“This is Vincent,” I said, gesturing to the hulking man standing behind me, silent as an undertaker with a look on his face like this was all just business as usual.
I was so proud of him.
“He works for me.”
Enzo blinked, looking from me to Vincent again. “What do you mean he works for you? Since when does anyone work for you?”
“Since yesterday,” I said.
Enzo cocked his head, likely realizing I wasn’t going to make this easy on him.
“And whose truck is this? It’s in my spot.”
“It’s my vehicle, and I think you’ll find they areourspots, so I have every right to be parked there.”
“Your vehicle? Francesca, that’s a hundred-thousand-dollar car.”
I smiled, the vindictive grin splitting my face. “A hundred and twenty, actually.” I winked. “I upgraded the leather.”
Enzo blew out a breath, running his hand through his hair, and I took a second to look at him. He looked rough, still unshaven and his clothes were creased like he’d slept in them.
Again.
“And just where the fuck are you going in this new vehicle of yours?”
“Oh, that’s easy. I’m going shopping.” I plastered on my most innocent face. “Just like you suggested.”
With that, I turned, heading back to the door that Vincent still held open. By the time he made his way back to the driver’s side and started the car, Enzo was still standing in the middle of the parking garage, mouth open and eyes wide.
I waved as we drove by, leaving him there with more questions than answers.
* * * *
“I’m in hell.”
Lexi rolled her eyes. “Oh, quit being so dramatic.”
“I’m not being dramatic. This is literally my version of hell.”
I heard Vincent snort softly as he trailed behind us, and I couldn’t help but lift my lips in a smile. I guess if shopping was hell for me, it must be worse for him, but he hadn’t said a word all day, which I appreciated.
We had met Lexi for breakfast at the diner she texted me the address of, some hole in the wall place with nothing on the menu that wasn’t deep fired. It was dingy and crowded and it reminded me of every greasy spoon I had ever been to in New York.
I loved it.
After we ate, with Lexi quizzing me on the nature of my relationship with Enzo—to which I responded with the most vague answers possible, leaving her thoroughly frustrated but undeterred—she drug me to what felt like every shop in Las Vegas.
I had no intention of actually going shopping when I left the condo that morning, but Lexi was very…persuasive. She eyed my outfit, and for the second time I felt like I was somehow less than because of what I was wearing. In New York, my wardrobe had never been an issue. I was comfortable in the conservative pants and sweaters; they were both appropriate and functional. Almost every woman in my circle dressed similarly and no one ever thought about it twice.
It was what was expected of us. And I always did what was expected.
But out here, I could see that what I had once thought of as standard and confirmatory was really making me stand out. The women of Las Vegas were all larger than life. In actuality, Lexi with her blue hair and outrageous make-up blended in much better than I did.
And truth be told, I was so fucking hot it was ridiculous. It was autumn, for fuck’s sake. Why was it still so freaking hot here? Late September was typically full of frosty mornings and crisp afternoons, not these sweaty, stale days that all seemed to feel the same.
And, wasn’t part of my goal in coming out here to reinvent myself? How could I do that if I still looked like everyone back in New York had always expected me to look?
So, while I grumbled on the outside when Lexi suggested we go shopping, I had really been fairly excited at the prospect.
