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Accessories were also a must, and Rowena had several pairs of fishnet stockings that had never even been opened. She let Trev go through her jewelry too, and he wondered how much of it was real or not. He stuck with colorful bangles and gaudy rings, things that were pretty but clearly costume jewelry.

It was too tempting to grab the earrings he recognized as real diamonds or the big sapphire ring. He had always been shameless, and yet…

He didn’t want to steal from Rowena.

She had been nothing but kind and gracious, and she was giving him clothes, jewelry, and even promised him whatever makeup he could find in her bathroom. Having already clocked the designer label on much of the clothing, he knew the cosmetics wouldn’t be of the drugstore variety.

Trev wasn’t sure what to make of this.

Rowena had nothing to gain by being nice to him unless this was something Cold had put her up to.

Same with Jimmy and his own generous albeit hideous gift of clothing and how he’d also stood up to Cold for him.

In Trev’s experience, people only did things for him because they wanted something in return. So, what did Rowena and Jimmy want?

They didn’t want to fuck him. They didn’t want to use him for leverage or as any source of information. They didn’t seem to have any need for his money. They didn’t really need him for anything, and it only made Trev even more unsettled.

Roger returned with the newly trimmed shorts and then Trev dragged them along with his new wardrobe into Rowena’s bathroom. While he changed, he could hear Mickey and Roger shouting at each other.

“You’re still such a fucking whore!” Mickey sneered.

“Me? Are you kidding me?” Roger laughed. “All I did was hand him some shorts.”

“I saw how you looked at him.”

“Excuse me?”

“Listen here, slut…”

Trev tuned them out and finally settled on a black halter top that showed off his midriff, the jean shorts with fishnets underneath, and his big boots. He asked Rowena for a pair of black socks, of course. He scored eyeliner and mascara from digging around in the drawers, and finally, he felt a bit more like himself when he looked in the mirror.

It was… strange.

He’d spent a lifetime staring at these eyes—they were his, after all—but it was surreal to see them gazing back at him from Rowena or Cold.

Especially Cold.

Rowena’s were capable of warmth and joy, even a tenderness that oddly reminded Trev of his mother even though they weren’t the two who were related.

Cold’s were nothing but ice and more ice.

He had barely blinked when describing the murder of their father, and Trev still hadn’t had time to sort out how he felt about that. If what Cold said was true, then he had probably done Trev a favor. Yet, it had robbed Trev of the chance to know Boris for himself.

To see if anything his mother had told him might be true.

Or was it all really a lie?

A fairy tale woven for a child who’d wanted to know where his father was?

Trev cursed when his eyes burned.

He dabbed at them, pleased that the makeup hadn’t run at least.

It really was some nice stuff.

Trev took a deep breath and then walked out of the bathroom, pausing to strike a pose against the doorway.

“Ah!” Rowena squealed. “Yes!” She grinned and clapped as she jumped to her feet to take in his outfit. “You look hot.”