Page 17 of Bought (BOUGHT TRILOGY #1)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Erin

The car pulls up in front of a store that’s not at all like the Target I expect, a huge designer boutique that shines from the inside out.

Posh.

The brands they carry are the same ones seen on the runway during Fashion Week. Celebrities are constantly photographed in their label. The prices are astronomical.

My breath catches as I stare out the window. “Lucian…” I whisper, stepping closer to him as we walk in. “This place is too expensive. I could never shop here.”

He gives me that look, the one when he’s about to say something too good to believe. The look that makes my stomach tighten and makes me think the energy between us could be something real.

His eyes shine with promise. “Nothing is too much for you.”

“That’s not true.” This is even messier than the way I choked out all over his shirt. Which, by the way, was humiliating.

Let’s pray the reverse swallow is the worst of the virgin blooper reels I make on my new journey in sexcapades.

We exit the car, and he grabs my hand in his, protective, guiding me to the store that girls like me only dream of entering.

“Sorry about your shirt,” I whisper.

He smiles down at me. “Simple mistake.”

My recent mistakes have been colossal, piling up one on top of another like a leaning tower of guilt and shame. Ready to topple down and crush me.

I never should have let Cass marry Caleb. Never should have gotten involved with the Morettis. And I never, ever should have shown up on his doorstep that night.

But I did. And that’s the only mistake I don’t want to take away.

I just wish it had been under honest pretenses. Or, that we’d had a meet-cute, like bumping into one another in the grocery, oranges toppling, and us scooping up produce, laughing together.

Only, I don’t think he shops at the Grocery Outlet. And our paths would never have crossed.

I have to find a way out of this. I can not betray this man. And he can never, ever find out what I was planning to do to him.

He squeezes my hand, bringing my thoughts to the present. “Ready?”

Overwhelmed, I nod. He opens the door.

The store steals my worries away, replaced with two stories of sheer beauty: a curved double staircase displaying the gowns on the second floor. Chandeliers sparkle overhead, and every display seems worthy of a museum.

I glance at the price tag of a dress as we pass by. Four digits. I can’t let him buy me anything from this store.

“Lucian…”

“Come.” Before I can protest again, he guides me to a display of casual women’s clothing.

My pulse quickens as I touch the beautiful fabric of a teal silk shirt. “Everything here is gorgeous.”

“I want you to pick something you feel confident in.” His mouth tilts into that wicked half-smile. “But I pick out what goes underneath.”

My cheeks flush. The thought of him deciding what I’ll wear in front of his family makes my chest flutter with nerves and something even warmer.

“You pick,” I whisper. “Everything. Choose something they’ll love.”

“They will love you no matter what.” He stares at me like his earnest gaze will be enough to convince me.

I look away, stroking a deep blue velvety blouse. “How do you know?”

“Because we Bachmans like the same things.” He moves behind me, his chest brushing my back as he murmurs, “Good girls like you.”

I tremble, the praise sinking deep.

He doesn’t call me that often, but when he does, it’s like lightning striking my heart.

It’ll be a casual dinner, so we start by choosing a pair of dressy jeans that make my butt look like I do squats. They’re from a brand I didn’t know existed, but I never want to take them off.

I try on several tops at his request: a deep cut emerald satin blouse, a sleeveless soft ivory silk shirt, and a black velvet sweater that hugs my breasts until I’m sure I’ll combust under his stare.

There’s one left to try, the last of the ones he’s chosen, a pale silver shirt, threaded with icy shimmer.

“Beautiful.” He slowly circles me in the mirror, his fingers grazing the hem before settling at the small of my back. “This one reminds me of the dress you wore on our first date.”

I admire the way the light top pairs with the dark jeans in my reflection in the dressing room mirror wall. “You like it?”

“I love it,” he says, low with certainty, “it makes your eyes impossible to ignore.”

I almost melt into the floor right there.

He gestures toward the men’s section. “Your turn.”

“My turn?”

“You’re going to pick something for me.”

I laugh nervously. “Me? I don’t know anything about fashion.”

He tilts his head. “Then you’ll learn. Show me what you want me to wear.”

I step into the men’s section, feeling like a trespasser. My hand brushes against silk shirts and tailored suit jackets, fabrics so smooth that they slide like water through my fingers. I stop at a navy shirt and pants that seem perfect for him.

Holding them out, I glance back at him, my face warming. “These.”

He eyes me rather than the clothes, as if my choice matters more than the fabric itself. Then he nods once. “Done.”

I breathe out in relief until he says, “But since you’ve chosen blue and black for me, we’ll match.”

“What?” I blink.

He’s already smirking. “Silver moon for you, midnight sky for me. We’ll walk in sync. Let them wonder if we planned it.”

The idea is so unexpected that I start laughing. “Planning our outfits together?” The tension eases from my chest. “That’s silly.”

“Silly is good. Matching is good. Anything to relax you.”

He doesn’t stop there, though. He insists on jewelry. He chooses a necklace so delicate I’m afraid to breathe near it, diamond studs that sparkle like captured starlight. New shoes, another coat—this one softer than clouds—and a slouchy, buttery leather purse.

"Lucian..." I protest faintly.

He hands over his black card as if it doesn't matter.

“This is crazy. You can’t?—”

“I want to. And I will.” His tone leaves no room for argument.

As we leave the store, his hand slips into mine, steady and possessive, while the bags hang from his other hand. I should feel spoiled rotten. I should feel ashamed.

Instead, I feel something completely different. And new.

Wanted.

I want the white picket fence. A man who looks at me like I’m the most beautiful woman in the world. And a vow that binds us for life.

I want my happily ever after. And I think I’ve found the man I want to share it with.

Every laugh, every tear, every kiss.

However, his world is fraught with danger and violence.

Everything we’ve been running from.

And that scares me more than any family dinner ever could.

Then his face changes, brows knitting, and his jaw hardening to stone. He says, “I have a serious question for you.”

The look in his eyes makes ice seep into my blood.

What does he know? My stomach drops. And how did he find out?