Page 11 of A Sixpence For Your Shoe (Revenge Brides #6)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Misha

“ L ittle raven.” He says his voice purrs over me like a lion.

“Yes, sir?” I say as sweetly as ever.

“Wear the other jeans. I prefer them.” He insists.

I don’t question his request. I simply slip my legs out of the jeans I just put on and toss them aside. Finding my other jeans, I slip into those, and I turn around for him to admire me.

He nods, his eyes holding a smile that his lips don’t show.

“Good girl.” He says quietly, and it sends a shiver through me.

How ridiculous that I have become so attached to those two little words.

Good girl. If you told me a month ago that I would be obsessed with hearing him, say those two words I would have laughed in your face.

But here I am, hanging onto them as though they dictate my entire future.

And they do in a way. If I am a good girl I get spoiled with luxuries.

If I’m not a good girl - I get to have some fun when it comes time to punish me.

I giggle to myself, lost in thought about the irony of how I win either way.

We’ve been staying at his mansion for the past few days, and I love it here. It’s quiet and beautiful and private. The place is massive, and I have so much more space to explore than in the penthouse.

My pink crop top fits snugly across my breasts as I pull it down over my body and slip my feet into the Gucci sneakers he got me yesterday. The mirror reflects back at me and tells me I look super cute. My hair is flicked up into a messy bun and the overall vibe is fresh and neat.

“Where are we going?” I ask as I pick up my purse to grab my lip gloss from it.

“It’s a surprise. You’ve been so well behaved these last few days that you’ve earned something special.” He smirks, standing up and sliding his phone into his pocket. “Are you ready, my pet?”

“Mmhmm.” I nod and step close to him, snuggling against his side for a moment. He wraps one of his strong, muscular arms around me. And he releases a deep moan as he kisses the top of my head. “You are going to love your surprise.” He whispers against my hair.

Vincent leads me out of the bedroom and towards the front door with his arm locked around my waist. In the elevator that carries us from the top floor of the mansion right into his underground garage, he doesn’t release me, holding me close and making me feel safe. His touch is a constant reassurance.

In the underground parking area where he has nine different cars parked, our footsteps echo and the car alarm beeps loudly when he unlocks it. Pulling the door open for me, he gently pushes me into the car.

As soon as the engine growls to life, he rests his hand over my thigh, his long fingers almost wrapping entirely around my leg.

In all my life I’ve never known someone whose love language revolved around physical touch.

And I never realized how much I appreciate it - and need it.

The more he touches me - the more I want him to.

It seems to strengthen our connection and sends a clear message to the world that I belong to him. Do I belong to him?

Sometimes when we are in the kitchen or sitting in the living room - he randomly reaches out and pulls me closer, as though he doesn’t like there to be distance between us - it sends a thrill of desire through me - to be so longed for.

I wonder if he will be so affectionate while we are out in public now. I doubt it. I’m so much younger than him and he might not want to be seen with someone like me.

Vincent doesn’t speak much on the drive into the city - towards the mall. I only find out that’s where we’re going when we get there.

“A mall?” I ask, curiously.

“Yes, this is not the surprise. But we need to stop here first. There is a party tonight and I intend to show you off - so you need a few things to wear.”

“Oh.” I grin excitedly. He wants to show me off in public. “What do you want me to wear?”

Since I met Vincent, I’ve become more interested in fashion. Before him I just couldn’t afford it, but he has been spoiling me non-stop with new clothes I guess it was inevitable.

“A dress that makes you look like you fell from the heavens.” He chuckles, climbing out of the car.

Vincent takes my hand and walks with me into the mall. Once we are inside, he pulls me even closer and slips his arm around my waist. It makes me smile. He isn’t afraid of letting other people know I’m his.

Am I his? Or is this just part of his game?

What does it matter? Just enjoy it for now.

Vincent doesn’t shop in the same malls I am used to shopping in. These are all extremely expensive boutique stores with window displays that make me gasp when we walk past them.

“Wow.” I murmur, spotting a dress too gorgeous for words. It’s dark red, with a low-cut front, thin straps made of glittering beads, and a slit so high up the long flowing skirt that it would probably reach my hip bone.

“That one?” He asks, pulling me to a stop.

I nod. Inside my thoughts scream that it will be way too expensive, but I’m trying to think like he does - to live in a world where money doesn’t even exist. Price tags don’t get looked at when you choose items.

The woman in the boutique rushes right over to us and smiles eagerly. She has too much makeup on and the red stain she’s chosen for her lips doesn’t match her skin tone.

“How can I be of help?” She asks in an extremely posh accent that sounds forced. Her eyes are devouring Vincent as she speaks.

I sneer, rolling my eyes at her. She couldn’t grovel more if she tried.

“My little pet would like the blood red dress in the window display. And this one—” He walks over to a black dress that is covered in tiny glittering black crystals, each hand-stitched into the dark fabric.

“She will try them both on.” He says, then settles into the high back sofa positioned in front of the dressing rooms.

The woman jumps to obey his commands, and I muse over the fact that he appears to have the same power over everyone. But not everyone gets to see the side of him I see.

“Come, little raven.” He says, tapping his leg.

I walk over to him and slide onto his lap. Waiting for the woman to set up my dressing room for me. I could get used to this.

Vincent brushes his hand up and down my back, caressing me while we wait.

I step out of the dressing room wearing the black dress and Vincent clenches his jaw, shifting in his seat.

It has a halter neck design with a tight collar around my throat. The long tight dress hugs me from top to bottom and two long slits run up either side, even higher than the red dress slit, leaving very little room for the imagination when it comes to admiring my legs.

“Yes.” He says, sounding aggressive. “Next.”

I grin because I know that look in his eyes better than anyone. He loves it. He might not have a lot to say about it, but every inch of his body language is giving him away.

I do an extra twirl, swaying my hips, before I head back into the changing rooms to try on the red dress.

When I step out this time, he takes a sharp breath and mumbles. “Fuck.”

The dress dips low in front, showing off the curve of my breasts, barely hiding them at all. The dark red, velvet fabric clings to my body, hinting at every curve of me, then flares out over my hips down to the floor. When I walk the slit floats open and teasingly shows my leg.

Vincent stands up and slowly walks around me, letting his hand follow the curve of my waist.

“Let me help you out of this one.” He says, pushing me into the change room and following me.

“Um, sir, you can’t—” the shop assistant mumbles helplessly.

“You can ring up both dresses.” He says, closing the door on the saleswoman.

I giggle as he pushes me against the wall, his cock rock hard against me.

“I can’t decide which I like better.” He says quietly.

“Well, you have until tonight to choose, before the party.”

“Mm.” He says, wrapping his hand around my jaw and kissing me.

“Sir—” the woman calls from outside, sounding horribly nervous.

I giggle again and Vincent steps away from me.

“I guess this will have to wait.” He chuckles, unlocking the door and letting his eyes trace over me one last time before he steps out.

I turn my back to him. “Wait. Will you unzip me?” I ask, a seductive whisper.

“You tease me too much, little raven.” His hand runs over my ass and up to where the dress hugs tightly over my waist. His fingers trace along the hidden zip, then slowly back down again as he pulls it open.

He lets out a frustrated huff before he pulls the dressing room door closed.

“What?” I hear him practically shout at the woman and she squeals in fright as she hurries away from him.

After choosing the dresses he chooses red bottom high heels to match them, then a gorgeous black diamond necklace and matching bracelet. A wave of nausea threatens when I see the price tag of the jewelry, but I pushed it away.

“Are you ready for your surprise now?” He asks with a grin, opening the passenger door for me.

“I am.” I say excitedly.

It isn’t a far drive and when we pull into the parking area outside of the Mustang showroom, I’m dizzy with excitement. My brows are knotted in disbelief as he leads me towards the Mustang parked at the entrance with a massive red ribbon tied around the matte black body.

“It’s a Mustang GT500.” He says calmly.

“Ok.” I stammer, unsure what is going on.

“It’s yours, little raven.” He chuckles.

“No.” I say in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

“I’m serious.” He confirms and I shake my head, staring, not able to process what is going on. “A car? You bought me a car?”

“Well, you have been a good girl.” He whispers against my ear, then pushes my lower back, encouraging me to go and look at my new car.

It turns out, I really like being a good girl.

But I’m not going to lie - being a bad girl might be more fun.

That evening, for the party, Vincent chooses the red dress for me to wear. He matches his suit to my outfit by wearing a red tie, tucked beneath his fitted black waistcoat.

We roam around like royalty while people gush over him, and he introduces me to everyone as his little pet. It makes me nervous, because while I rather do enjoy being his little pet, the endearing term might be far more literal than I imagine.

My mind taunts me with the idea that I am disposable and replaceable in his eyes.

There is no point in worrying though and I should just enjoy everything while it lasts, so as the party goes on, I drink the most expensive champagne in the world - which is horribly bitter - and I dance with Vincent in front of everyone. His hands don’t leave my body for a second.

One thing is unquestionably true though - how many people respect him. Or fear him. It’s hard to tell the difference. And all the while he is gently possessing me in front of everyone. I hear them whispering - Who is she? Where does she come from?

And the idea of being someone so mysterious makes the night even more fun.