Page 224 of Rosetti Family New York
“Doubtful,” I say. “But maybe if you pair them with this.”
I toss a top at her that looks like it could fit a twelve-year-old.
Her mouth drops open, and I smirk.
“Show me,” I say, nodding at the dressing room. “I want to see what my little prison princess is going to wear.”
She throws me a look like I’ve lost my mind, but she goes.
I wait, giving a once-over to some dresses on a nearby rack. I know what I want to see her in, but I also know she’ll fight me on it.
The curtain opens, and she’s standing there with her hands on her hips. My pulse does a little stutter step.
“Damn.”
I give her a long look. She makes even those ragged jeans look like they cost a fortune. The top clings to her like it’s painted on, and she looks more like Sloane than ever.
I walk over, and she bites her lip, that teasing edge back in her eyes.
“Now I know I’ve been kidnapped.”
I nod at the pile of clothes she didn’t put on. It’s all the stuff I want to see her in.
“Get those too,” I say, and she rolls her eyes.
“Really?” she asks. “I don’t even know what some of this is.”
“Try it all,” I reply.
She looks like she’s about to argue, but instead she makes a face and starts trying things on, one by one. Each time she comes out, I check her out. Gorgeous.
“Looks fine,” I say, readjusting my crotch.
She laughs at me, calls me a perv, and disappears behind the curtain to keep going. It’s the damn best fashion show I’ve ever seen. Fancy tops, casual dresses, things so tiny I’m not sure they’re legal. She comes out in all of it, and I swear she looksmore amazing every time. It’s enough to make my head spin and my pulse jump, and I’m not even trying to hide how much I like it.
I watch her drag a hand through her hair, her lips twitching with that wicked, tempting smile. The saleswoman hovers nearby, and I’m betting she’s never seen a shopping trip like this before. The place is so quiet you can hear Sloane’s laugh echo through the racks, and the tick of the clock on the wall. I could stay here all day, just watching her try to figure out how she ended up in this store and in my house.
But instead, I watch her come out one last time, and I cross my arms.
“Everything,” I say, shaking my head. “You need everything here.”
She opens her mouth to argue, but I’m already at the register, and when I say I want all of it, I mean it.
“Crazy,” she mutters when I hand the credit card over.
We head out with more bags than she can carry, and I wonder if I’ll ever get tired of the way she bickers with me, the way she always says what’s on her mind. She tries to keep up her front, but I see the excitement in her eyes. The thrill she gets from getting under my skin, making me splurge like I’ve never splurged before.
Like a fool who’s already in too deep.
We don’t stop at one place. We hit the entire block. Shoes. Bags. Jackets. Enough outfits to fill her whole damn apartment.
Sloane protests at every stop, but I don’t let her words get to me. The way she lights up when I buy her something says more than her arguments do.
“I thought I was supposed to be in hiding,” she says, eyeing a red leather jacket with hunger in her eyes.
I nod at the clerk, who grabs it in her size.
“Best way to blend in is to look like you belong,” I say. “This town’s full of rich assholes. No one notices another one.”
