Page 60 of Play Fast (Brooklyn Dawn 2)

She smiled. “Come with me, sir. I’m sure we can accommodate you.”

Within ten minutes, the shoppers inside the store had been hustled out. A closed sign now hung on the door. We were given carte blanche and told to take our time shopping. Out of the back emerged a shopping assistant referred to as our concierge, toting a bottle of champagne that I waved off and Daisy stared at as if she was in a foreign country and didn’t speak the language.

“It’s three o’clock.”

“You wanted proof I hadn’t blown all my money, right?” I shrugged and gestured toward the champagne. “Drink up.”

She didn’t touch the glass they’d poured for her. “I saw your house in that magazine. That’s why I said what I did. I don’t care about your stupid money. Is that what you think I’m here for?”

I shrugged again. Something dangerous was brewing inside me. The past was too close, and the future was uncertain as fuck. I didn’t like Noah lurking around. Didn’t know what to make of the vandalism at the venue and the undercurrents around the band.

Never mind what the hell this was with Daisy and I.

But this was something I could do. I could buy out a store and remind myself that I wasn’t at anyone’s mercy anymore. I’d fought my way out of my past.

Outrun it.

“What do you like?” I indicated the racks surrounding us. “What’s your favorite color?”

Despite obviously not liking any of this, she couldn’t help the interest flaring in her eyes as she looked around. She was a wizard with hair and makeup, and for all I knew, she was already selecting ensembles.

Good. If she was thinking of lace and frilly underthings, she couldn’t tremble at the possibility we were being followed.

She moved to a rack of nightgowns and robes—peignoirs, I heard the saleswoman call them—and started flipping through different styles. My spine itched at standing around, but I wanted her occupied.

Some of her anxiety issues might have to do with me. I’d nearly knocked her out yesterday even before the guy with the knife had appeared. I certainly hadn’t taken the time to see how she was after Kerry died. Even knowing I should, that Kerry would want me to watch out for her too. I’d tried to ensure she would be looked after, but caring by proxy didn’t count.

I’d been too self-absorbed to think about much more than fucking my way through life. Drinking myself into oblivion and on the nights that wasn’t enough to kill the memories, taking whatever came to hand. Until I woke up full of sickness and self-loathing. Dragging myself onto stages that grew bigger with the passing years, playing for crowds that grew to match the stage. The music as much of a tonic as the drugs I eventually started staying away from.

Not soon enough.

“What do you think?”

Daisy has emerged from the dressing room in the palest lilac lace. The robe was modest, the nightgown a column of silk meant to hint at curves rather than reveal them.

It was pretty, but my mood was too fucking raw for sweetness.

“Nice.” I stalked to a rack with a lot of tiny red contraptions with more cut-outs and straps than material. I grabbed one, not even knowing what her size was, and shoved it in her direction. “What about something like this?”

She frowned and checked the tag. “Sorry to break your heart, but I’m not a size 2.”

The concierge hurried forward to find her size on the rack. “Here you go,” she said, offering the lacy thing to Daisy.

She accepted it and went back into the dressing room without a word.

I was pissing her off, but what was the big deal? I’d paid for the private shopping session, and I’d be ponying up for whatever she wanted too. She could get her purple-whatever thing, but I liked the idea of her tits practically hanging out. Easy access. So what?

Daisy didn’t have any qualms about her body, which was sexy as fuck. She walked out wearing the piece I’d selected with a pair of heels she’d gotten from somewhere with her makeup freshly applied—and a lot smokier. Her blue eyes glimmered with the sweep of dark wings at the corners and

her lips were a soft raspberry pink that made me think of her pussy.

Probably on purpose, damn her.

I had to crack my knuckles to keep from picking her up and setting her on the nearest marble table. I wondered how much discretion from the staff my money would buy.

She didn’t ask me what I thought of this one. She knew how she looked. Tits up high and proud, framed by lace, her nipples covered with tiny satin triangles. Her cinched-in waist was the perfect counterpoint to her full hips.

She walked in front of the mirror, her long hair swaying with every step, brushing the top of her ass. That part of her was barely concealed by the red lace and a satin strip that disappeared between her legs. Pity. I’d have to find another one that was crotchless.

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