Chapter 57 Episode 57

There’s at least a foot and a half between our bodies on the massive bed, but this feels extremely intimate. “You’re going to sleep in here with me?” I ask in surprise. “This is my room, remember?” “I could use another room, you know. You’ve got plenty.” “Why would you do that?” he asks. I want to ask him the same question. But I’m terrified of what the answer will be. So I close my eyes and let myself drift off. But even my dreams are of him. When I wake up the next morning, Anton is gone. But I can see the faint indent of his body. It’s still warm to the touch, proof that he slept by my side the whole night. Pathetically, I run my hand over the disappearing lines, wondering why I feel this sense of longing. I pry myself out of bed and slink into his bathroom to wash up. The shower is the size of my entire bathroom back in the apartment. There’s still water on the tile floor, so I know he’s showered already. I rinse and then exchange his sweats for the same clothes I had on yesterday. They’re a little worse for the wear, but beggars can’t be choosers. I spritz myself with cologne from the countertop and hope it will cover the sick stench that clings to my shirt. I head downstairs to the kitchen, hoping to draw no attention. But before I get there, I’m accosted by Lev. “Morning,” he says. “Feeling any better?” I feel mostly fine, even though the queasiness still hasn’t quite left me. “Yeah, more or less. I was just on my way to the kitchen.” “No need. Anton’s waiting for you in the driveway.” “Who is doing what in the where?” “He doesn’t like to be kept waiting.” I throw him an annoyed glance. “Well, I didn’t know he was waiting.” “Well, now, you do. Better hurry.” I roll my eyes and make for the driveway. Sure enough, I find Anton sitting in the same red Ferrari he drove me home in, tapping his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel. “What’s going on?” I ask. “I was just on my way to the kitchen to get breakfast ready.” “I’m not going to be here for breakfast.” My heart sinks a little. “Oh… okay. I’ll just—” “Neither are you,” he adds. “We’re going out.” I hesitate only for a second before I get into the front seat. He hands me a glass bottle filled with lemonade. “Drink that.” I take a small sip. “Anton, where are we going?” “You need clothes, don’t you?” he says. “And no offense, but the ones you’ve got on aren’t exactly fit for polite company. Not really fit for dogs, either, if I’m being honest.” “Okay, offense taken.” I squirm uncomfortably in my seat. “We wouldn’t have this problem if you’d just let me go home last night.” “You’d have puked the whole way there.” “I would have held it in. Or, you know, barf-bagged it or whatever.” I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. He spent the entire evening yesterday taking care of me. Now, he’s taking me shopping? This feels like an alternate reality. A reality in which a normal weekday involves me driving around on a shopping spree with the most beautiful man on the planet in the most obnoxiously sexy car. But that’s the thing—it doesn’t feel like an obnoxious car when Anton is behind the wheel. It just feels right. “You really don’t have to do this, Anton.” “So you’d rather stay in those clothes all day?” I look down at the stain that covers part of my left breast. It’s slight, but I can still catch the smell of my regurgitated breakfast wafting off of it. “Okay, fine,” I concede. “If you make a left at the next corner, there’s a department store. I passed by it yesterday morning.” He takes his eyes off the road just so he can glare at me. “What?” I ask again, but I don’t get an answer until Anton turns onto— “Rodeo Drive?” I splutter, gawking at him. “What the hell are you doing, Anton?” “Now, this street has some decent choices,” he says. “Are you high?” I demand. “There’s nothing on this street I can afford. I can’t even buy a belt here.” “You’re working for me now. You can afford whatever you want.” “Um, I beg to differ. And even if I could pay for the stuff here, I wouldn’t blow my cash on a five-thousand-dollar dress.” He parks along the curb. “I’d never let you get away with buying something that cheap.” “I don’t think you can park here,” I tell him, pointing at the sign a few feet away. He just waves me off. “I can park anywhere I like.” “What is this, like, diplomatic immunity or something?” I ask. Anton smirks. “Something like that. Now, come on.” He slams his door shut and walks into the nearest store. It has an actual bouncer standing out front. I’m not kidding, an honest-to-goodness bouncer. He’s wearing a suit and everything. It makes me feel especially conspicuous in my ratty, worn clothes. But I’m left with no choice but to follow Anton inside. The space is dimly lit and surprisingly sparse. There are barely any clothes on display. The few pieces I do see are draped around anemic mannequins in strange poses. Everything is various shades of neutral colors in alien fabrics. I move closer to Anton, mostly because I’m pretty damn sure I’ll be thrown out of here like yesterday’s garbage if anyone thinks I’m not with him. “Is it weird that I’m intimidated by the mannequins?” I whisper. He snorts with laughter before turning to the saleswoman who is fast approaching. She’s wearing a figure-hugging, black wraparound dress, blood-red heels, and a rainbow of colorful beads around her neck. Her hair is styled in an intricate nest of braids on top of her head and her makeup is heavy but expertly applied. “Carolina,” Anton says with a cool, familiar smile. “Anton!” she greets enthusiastically. “How wonderful to see you again. It’s been a while.” “It has.” He puts his hand on the small of my back and pushes me forward. “I’m here to get my friend fitted for a new wardrobe.” Friend? He could have said “employee,” so I suppose “friend” is a step up. But considering we’ve had s*x and woke up next to each other this morning, it feels like a demotion. But I focus on something else that caught my attention. “Excuse me, a whole new wardrobe?” I say incredulously. “I don’t need a whole new wardrobe.” “And yet you’re getting one,” he says with a shrug. Then he just walks away. Of course, the immaculate Carolina falls into step next to him, which leaves me trailing behind them like a sad, half-starved puppy. “Anton…!” I hiss. But again, he ignores me. “Why don’t you both take a seat?” Carolina suggests, gesturing to a huge, curved sofa that faces the dressing rooms. “I’ll bring out some options for your ‘friend.’” She turns to me and gives me the once-over. For a moment, I’m insulted until I realize she’s trying to determine my size. She disappears into the cavernous store and I’m left standing there, staring slack-jawed at Anton, who is making himself comfortable on the curved sofa like it’s his own damn living room. “What the hell is this?” I demand, placing myself right in front of him. “Is that a trick question?” “I will not let you dress me up like I’m your little Barbie doll.” “I’m not dressing you up.” He points at Carolina’s retreating form. “She is.” “I want to go somewhere else. Somewhere… normal. Affordable.” He rolls his eyes. “That’s not an option.” “Because you say it is?” “Precisely. You’re starting to get it. Now, pipe down and enjoy this.” “Why not?” he asks innocently. “Because… because I’m not going to spend thousands of dollars on one piece of clothing, that’s why!” “Then you don’t have to. I will.” I groan. “I can’t let you spend this much money on my clothes.” “Jesus. You’re always looking for a fight, aren’t you?” I’m so tired at this point that I plonk myself down beside him. He gives me a little smile that suggests he knows he’s slowly wearing me down. “You should have figured it out by now, Jessa,” he says. “I always get my way.” I smile, but on the inside, my chest tightens. Is that a friendly little reminder? Or is it a serious warning? Had he said something similar to his wife before she died? The crazy part is that, even as I worry, I hope and wish and pray that I can trust him. That what happened to Marina won’t happen to me. That there’s a happy ending out there somewhere. Even when I know that’s foolish, I can’t stop thinking it. I look away. “No. I was just wondering…” I want to ask about his wife. The question is on the tip of my tongue. But as his sexy gray eyes bore into mine, I change the question at the last minute. “Why are you doing all this for me?” His usually confident expression turns baffled for a moment, and for the first time in as long as I can remember, Anton Stepanov falters. “I… I don’t know.” He glances away as if in pain and says nothing else.