Page 43 of Coercion

“You okay?”

Preston’s voice makes me jump. I turn to face him and he’s there staring down at me with the same familiar look of concern I’m starting to believe might actually be real.

“I’m okay.” I say back.

He takes my hand. “Where did you go just now? What were you thinking about?”

I look away, shutting my eyes. Sharing something so personal feels like a risk. But not sharing comes with risks too. I don’t want him to think I’m hiding things, that I can’t be trusted.

“I was thinking about my mother.” I say quietly.

His eyebrows raise. “What made you think of her?”

“She would have loved this place. Would have loved to be here.”

He squeezes my hand but he doesn’t pry any further and for that I’m so grateful. I want to keep my memories secret, I want to keep them as mine, like tiny treasures that I can lock up and protect, and in a way it feels like I’m protecting them too.

“Have you seen anything you like?” He asks.

I nod, surreptitiously wiping away the tear that I hope he hasn’t noticed.

“Why don’t you try some on? See how they fit.”

“Do you want to see?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Only if you’re comfortable with that.”

In the end, I show him everything I put on. Maybe I’m seeking his approval, maybe I just want him to feel like I’m giving him a choice in what I wear. Either way, he neither criticises nor puts down any of the items I pick. The few that I dislike, he hands back to the assistant without comment.

When we’re done, one of his guards ends up carrying the humongous bags and I feel like I’m in some Hollywood film. Like I’m Pretty Woman or something.

I’m wearing new shoes. Comfortable heels that don’t pinch the way my awful wedding shoes did. I feel attractive, I feel worthy of him.

As we walk down the street I lean into Preston and he glances down at me, smiling in a way that makes my heart flip. Is he happy right now? Is he enjoying spending this time with me as much as I am with him?

People are looking our way. I realise this is the first time since our wedding that we’ve been seen as a couple. Do we look like we fit? Do I look good enough now to be on his arm, as his wife?

“Where would you like to go next?” He asks, cutting through those thoughts.

“Aren’t you done buying me things?” I say.

He takes my hand in his, intwining our fingers. “No. I’m happy to buy you whatever you want. As my wife you should have the very best of everything. If there’s something you want you only have to say.”

I bite my lip, hesitating because there is something I need, but it feels risky, really risky to ask. And yet on some level, I know it will also help in my plan to seduce him.

“What is it?” He asks, like he can read my facial expressions now.

“I need underwear.” I say bluntly.

His eyebrows raise. “Underwear?” He repeats.

“I don’t have any.”

He drops his gaze, staring at the shirt I’m still wearing, despite all my new purchases. I know what he’s thinking, where his head is at, that under this fabric I’m completely starkers.

“My wife wants to go underwear shopping.” He murmurs.

“I can go by myself.” I state quickly. “If you’d rather…”