Page 110 of Bribed by the Billionaire Bad Boy

I gasp, looking in the back seat. “Where?”

Lex tsks. “Sharing is caring, sugar. I’ll buy you a snack if you’re good while we shop. Sorry it’s not shopping day.”

“Shopping day never includes clothes shopping.” My nose wrinkles. “Because it’s dreadful.

“Agreed.”

~*~

It’s not dreadful. Not with Lex. The patient way he thumbs through dresses like they’re pages in a book and selects his favorites is addicting. The way he looks at me in each new gown makes my blood heat. He circles me, like I’m an exotic creature for him to peruse, then he makes a dreadfully inappropriate remark about how the dress shows too much skin here or there, or if I bend over for even a second, there will be nothing left to the imagination.

And does he ever like to imagine.

I’m half certain by the time he’s finally decided on and bought me my needlessly extravagant dress all the store clerks breathe a collective sigh of relief that the mongrel chasing her boyfriend around in evening gowns is finally leaving.

After the dress comes the shoes, which are somehow comparably expensive. However, they make it harder to chase Lex around and there are less issues in choosing them, even if Lex does wise crack about how seductive some make my ankles look.

When he’s finally taking me home—with my snack and my pretty new outfit—I actually feel like a real sugar baby. All pampered and spoiled.

I shove a soft pretzel bite in my mouth, slouching like no tomorrow. “So end of next month I need to pretend to be a lady?”

“A princess, if you can manage it.”

“Ooh. You have very expensive tastes. I should have known.”

He keeps his eyes on the road as a smile paints across his lips. “This might actually be fun. I wonder how much we can get away with.”

“AlexanderHawthorn if you go around telling all your father’s business people I’m your sugar baby…”

“I should. That would throw them through a loop. Stiff people in suits need that kind of excitement in their lives. Heck, put me in a suit, and I’ll be dying to release all the pent-up energy.”

I hold a pretzel bite up to his lips, and he munches it. “To think I’d get the honor of seeing you in a suit before our play fittings.”

Lex swallows, his eyes twinkling. “To think I’d get the pleasure of dressing you up like my own little doll. We should do this again sometime.”

I am almost out of my treat. “Absolutely not.”

“Maybe you’ll let me into the fitting room next time.” Mischief glints in his eyes, visible even at this angle and in the dark.

I ping one of my precious remaining pretzels off his head.

“Purely so I can help with all those strange laces and things,” he defends lamely. “It’s the gentlemanly thing to do.”

“Ha ha. As if you’d know anything about a lady’s laces, Sir Hawthorn.”

Lex

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Sorry.” It’s the first word Calypso says to me when I pick her up. Eyes clinging to the ground, she keeps her lips pressed together.

I keep trying to catch my breath. I’ve, obviously, seen the dress and shoes before. I bought them after all. The sky blue gown draws out the softer shades in her eyes and contrasts her pale skin, dark glasses, and light hair perfectly. Floor-length and flowing, with a modest slit that skims up only to her knee, the dress is sleeveless, wraps around her throat, and covers her chest completely. I insisted that we get this one instead of the other like it that swooped low in the back, revealing every dainty dimple of her spine. Just because.

Her blond hair flows around her, each kinky wave tamed and slick, not at all the natural wild I saw when she brushed it out at my house. She pushes back the curtain and adjusts her glasses, meeting my eyes just long enough for me to tell she’s wearing makeup.

A sparkling white eyeshadow contrasts the dark wings defining her eyes, and the shine of gloss on her lips is working on me like a Venus fly trap.

It’s all too clear she’s painfully uncomfortable in the whole ensemble.