Elena's POV:
It's Saturday and I'm exhausted. And I haven't even done much. I cleaned my room, and arranged my closet, but that was about it. Lucia handled the bathroom herself.
She even scolded me because I did those few things myself. But I'm not comfortable with her doing everything for me. I'm young. I should be able to do some stuff myself even without her help.
I pour myself some orange juice, before heading for the living room, then I prop myself onto the couch.
Reaching for the remote, I turn on the TV to see if there's going to be anything interesting on, but even as it plays, my mind drifts to something else. Someone else.
He's probably in the gym. Shirtless just like the last time. Dripping wet with sweat and...
Warmth stirs low in my stomach.
Goddamit! It's too early for this shit.
As if on cue, heavy footsteps descend down the stairs. I don't need to turn to know who it is.
My spine straightens instinctively and I force my attention back on the screen, pretending to be engrossed.
I feel him loom behind me, his presence heavy.
Then slowly I turn to look at him.
He's standing a foot away from me in all his glory. But he's not in gym clothes. Neither is he in work clothes. Just…casual wear.
And it looks so fucking good on him.
He's putting on a white tee shirt, that's neatly tucked into black jeans. His black belt sits a bit low on hisnarrow waist.
His arms are exposed and so is his tattoo. My eyes drag through the veins that run all the way from his lower arms to his long, slender hands.
And there's something so attractive about the gold watch on his wrist. He makes everything look appealing. I swallow and drag my eyes up a bit to his face. His god-damned perfect face.
I notice his hair is not laid back as usual. It's in a half parting that falls over his head, almost covering his eyes.
And seeing him like this, in his not-too-serious state, it does something to my insides. And I feel the sudden urge to run my hand through his hair, just to know how it feels. To run my fingers along his veiny hands, and see if they pulse under my touch. To...
"I think that's enough looking"
I shriek, bringing myself back to the present. I feel a blush creep to my cheek.
I clear my throat. "I wasn't staring," which of course is an obvious lie.
And the way Adrian tilts his head slightly and narrows his gaze on me, tells me that he doesn't believe me one bit. But better that than admitting shit.
"We have somewhere to go," he says.
"Where's that?" I ask, composing myself.
"A store"
"Store?" I frown. "What are we going to do at a store?"
"We're going to get clothes," he states obviously.
"Uhhh yeah… but why? I have enough clothes already. I haven't even worn them all yet," I say.
"You need new clothes for our trip"
I blink. "Trip?" I'm really confused now.
"A business trip, to be precise. It's just a few days. Maybe three."
"And you need me?"
"I do. We need to make an appearance," he slides a hand in his pocket, then adds, "together."
I swallow, a bunch of nerves swirling through me. I'm excited that we get to travel, but then again, I've not always done well with public appearances. It's just not my thing.
"What are you thinking?"
My eyes snap up. "Uhh, nothing," I blurt out. "But still, I don't think I need new clothes. I'm sure the ones I have in my closet would be perfect for the..."
"I didn't ask you, Elena. I was telling you. You're coming with me either way," he says with finality.
I bite back the words I want to say, swallowing them. He doesn't seem in the mood for a fight. And neither am I.
"Okay then," I nod.
"Good. You have thirty minutes to get dressed and meet me down here again." He starts heading for the car.
"What? That's too..."
"Time is running," he throws over his shoulder.
Fuck me!
I dash up the stairs, almost tripping. 30 minutes to shower, and get dressed. Okay. No big deal. I can do that.
****
The boutique is in a quieter part of the city...discreet, almost invisible unless you know where to look. It smells faintly of perfume and polished wood.
The attendants notice us immediately. Recognition flickers across their faces. Adrian must come here a lot then, because it's definitely not me they're staring at.
Some of the attendants pass subtle looks at Adrian. Flirty looks. Something twists low in my stomach. Irritation?
I look up at Adrian. He's not paying them any heed. His eyes are focused on his phone, his expression unreadable.
"This way, sir," one of them says, guiding us toward the private fitting area.
"Please wait here," the attendant says, gesturing for us to sit. "I'll go get the manager," she says, before disappearing into a room.
The door opens almost immediately and the attendant steps out again. A blonde woman follows behind her.
As she walks towards us, I study her. Fair skinned, thick blonde hair, long slender legs, cladded with long red pencil heels. Her dress accentuates all her curves perfectly.
My eyes lift to her face, that's glammed up. Heavy make-up, with bright red lipstick.
She's beautiful. Very beautiful.
I haven't done any make-up. I barely even do make-up.
My eyes dart to Adrian again who's still busy on his phone. And a sudden unexpected thought comes to mind.
Does he like blondes?
"Mr. Moretti!" The manager chimes as she reaches us. "Good to see you again. It's been a while," her voice is sultry when she speaks.
Adrian's gaze lifts from his phone and lands on her. "Mmm," he nods lightly, then crosses one leg over the other.
"I need dresses for my wife. Formal dresses. Three would do."
The woman's eyes finally fall on me, and she does a once-over on me, irritation visible on her face.
My throat bobs up and down, but I don't hide my gaze. If anything, I should be the one giving her an irritated look. She was staring at Adrian like she could eat him.
"Okay," she turns back to Adrian smiling and flaunting all her white teeth. "I'm sure we have beautiful dresses that'll suit her perfectly."
"Please," her eyes find mine again. "Follow me."
My eyes dart to Adrian for a brief second. He gives me a small nod, before I stand and follow her inside.
The first dress I try on, is silver, soft, and flowing. It stops by my ankle. But I don't think it's perfect for a formal event. The dress hugs all my curves perfectly, and the color is beautiful, but the cut is extremely low. Half of my cleavage is exposed.
When I step out of the fitting room, Adrian's gaze lifts from his phone to me.
His eyes drag down the length of my body, from head to toe, slowly, observing, then they come up again and land on my exposed cleavage. He leans back into the chair, nostrils flaring, as he runs a hand along his bearded jaw.
"No," he bites.
"Why not?" I ask, knowing very well why he refused.
I see his jaw tick. "Because if you wear that, every fucking man at that event will have their hungry eyes feeding on you, and then I'd have to put a bullet through all of their heads for staring at my wife."
A soft laugh escapes me before I can stop it, a blush creeping up to my cheeks. That sounded so out of a book.
But when I look up, he's not smiling. He's serious.
He would really shoot people for staring at me?
I fist my hands by my side. "Uhh...Okay then. I'll just try on something else."
A low grumbled sound of approval vibrates in his chest, and I turn and head back into the fitting room, still pondering on what he said.