Page 48 of Dirty Husband

What the hell?

My lawyer motions for him to enter. He steps inside with alet's get this donelook.

"Ms. Lee." He offers his hand. "How are you this morning?" He holds up something else. A thermos. "Key prepared it before I left. It's supposed to stay warm for twelve hours, but I wouldn't bet on it."

"Thank you." It's there, my name on the dotted line, the notarization, the lawyer's signature. I'm officially his. "Have you come all this way to bring me tea?"

"If only, Ms. Lee," he says.

"Jasmine, please."

He nodsof course. "If only, Jasmine. Unfortunately, my plans for the afternoon—knocking off work to put the city's most expensive champagne tea on your fiancé's credit card—have to wait."

I like the way he thinks.

I shake my lawyer's hand with a quickthank you, then I stand and meet Lock at the door.

He smiles as he hands me the mug. "Your fiancé has dinner plans. He needs you to buy a dress."

"What's wrong with this?" I smooth my pencil skirt. It's not fancy, but it looks professional enough. I guess that answers the question.

I look like an assistant. And who shows up to dinner with his secretary? That sends the wrong image. Even for Shep.

Better for me to look like a trophy wife.

"I believe"—he leans in to whisper—"the idea is to show off your lovely figure."

Oh. Of course.

"Make the other men jealous." He shakes his headhow silly. "You are a beautiful girl. I understand the impulse."

I am an object for him to parade. And he can tell me what to wear. So many fun terms to this agreement. It's like Shep is trying to make earning this million dollars as painful as possible. "Yes."

"Men." He shrugswhat can you do?"I have an appointment at a store you'll love. Unless you'd rather find something on your own." Despite his friendly tone, the implication is clear. I should take his help. I should allow him to dress me correctly. So Shep is pleased.

I suppose I should expect as much. He's specific about his home, his office, his suits, his car. Why not his wife to be?

* * *

Ismoderation in Shepard's vocabulary? Subtlety? Temperance?

This is New York City. It's possible to find gorgeous, one of a kind clothes in a hundred different spots, at every price point imaginable.

There are knock offs in Chinatown, gorgeous vintage numbers in the village, trendy dresses in Brooklyn.

And here, at this exclusive boutique in SoHo, expensive designer gowns with four-figure price tags.

Do people really pay this much for a dress they'll wear, what, three times? It's ridiculous. My frugal nature screamslook online, there are better deals. That dress on display is gorgeous—a deep plum with a sweetheart neckline and a mermaid skirt—but it's not worth—

Shit, is that really the price? My head gets light. My knees knock together.

"Jasmine—" Lock catches me before I can full-on faint. "Don't tell me Key prepared the tea incorrectly."

I can't help but laugh. He's good at his job. Assuming part of his job is keeping the wife in line. "No, it was perfect. But hot. I'm a little flushed."

"Shall I find you water?" he offers.

I nodsure.