Page 85 of Sapphire Tears

She gets it. I don’t need to answer. Her silence is heavy, but I don’t impose. I leave her to her thoughts and let myself do the unthinkable in her presence.

I relax.

I have every certainty that tomorrow will bring a fresh batch of complications. But for right now, with June in my arms—it’s simple.

37

JUNE

“This is insane.”

I’ve never seen such a glittery façade to a store before. It looks like a dream palace, shimmering gold and silver in the sun.

“You did promise to let me take care of you for a change,” Kolya reminds me.

“I don’t remember promising anything of the sort.”

“Humor me then,” he laughs, taking my hand. “This is the first time I’ve been able to get out of that damn suite in days.”

I bite back my own smile and let him coax me into the store. “I’m not sure how buying me a bunch of expensive things I don’t need is humoring you, but okay. Proceed as you wish, Mr. Uvarov.”

“I always do.”

The doors open with a tinkling chime and the onrush of lavender. It’s broad and open in here, every surface spotless, every item hanging on a rack of its own. Even the mannequins have their chins raised haughtily, as if they’re turning their noses up at every customer that walks in.

I look down at the purple dress I’m wearing and suddenly, I don’t feel quite so chic anymore. It’s pretty and all, but it’s alarming how fast I go from feeling cute and summery to dowdy and unprepared.

“Is it possible to be intimidated by a mannequin?” I mutter as Kolya and I pass one wearing a gorgeous blush tulle skirt and a black crop top with an open back.

“You don’t have to be intimidated by anyone,kiska,” Kolya says, just before the manager of the store walks up to us.

“Oh, fucking hell,” I mutter again under my breath.

If the mannequin was a runway model, then this woman is an Amazon queen. She looks like she’s about nine feet tall with her legs making up eighty percent of that height, though I may or may not be slightly exaggerating. Dead-straight platinum blonde hair falls over her shoulders like a frozen waterfall and the skin-tight silver jumpsuit she’s wearing makes every curve in her body look like the greatest thing since sliced bread. She hasn’t even said a word and I’d already be perfectly content to let her spit in my face and ruin my life if that’s what she wanted to do.

“Mr. and Mrs. Uvarov, we’ve been expecting you,” she croons with a bright smile. For God’s sake, even her voice is sexy. Husky and raspy, like Janis Joplin drinking a dry martini.

Unrelated, I feel a shiver of excitement rush up my spine when she refers to me as Mrs. Uvarov. I probably should correct her, but I don’t.

And, I notice, neither does Kolya.

“I’m Delphine. If you would like to make your way through to our private rooms, I can have a selection of pieces brought to you.”

I turn to Kolya in surprise. “They bring the clothes to us?”

I know I must sound like a country bumpkin, but I honestly didn’t even know this was how the other half lived. I’ve been running around picking my own clothes off the rack at stores my whole life. What a peasant I am.

“We will do anything you like, madam,” says Delphine.

“I, uh… I’ll do it the old-fashioned way, I think,” I mumble awkwardly.

Delphine gives me another dazzling smile. “Of course. As you wish. I can have Marcel mark off all the clothes you want to try on.”

“Thank you.”

Kolya and I start walking, and the Marcel in question, another jaw-droppingly attractive employee, wearing a crisp charcoal suit and mahogany loafers the color of dried blood, springs to life and starts trailing behind us. He keeps a respectful distance—but still, it’s weird. All of it.

“Is he going to be following us the entire time?” I whisper to Kolya.

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