She frowns. “My job wasn’t to buy you more jeans. You’re supposed to have a whole wardrobe. We still need to get—”
“I don’t need anything else.”
“But Mr. Novikov wanted me to get you everything you would need. He’ll be upset with me if I don’t—”
“Order it,” I interrupt. “Whatever is left on the list, order it. I trust you. You have a good sense of style.”
“While I agree that Stella always looks marvelous,” Anatoly says, seemingly unaware of the way his attention sends Stella into a near-conniption, “there are some things you need to pick out for yourself, Viv.”
“Don’t call me that,” I mumble as Anatoly grabs my shoulders and turns me towards a limestone building on the closest corner.
Warm light shines out of the windows into the overcast day. “Cartier” is written in gold script on
