Page 120 of Morally Black Betrothal

She wouldn’t have asked at all.

“Although, if you’d like something better, we have a few couture pieces that might fit you. Let me look in the back.”

I nodded. “Yes, that sounds better.”

My stomach churned as she left, though frankly, I’d lost my enthusiasm for shopping. Particularly when I considered how many other times Brendan had handed his card over without even asking for the tally.

We had probably spent enough on clothing in a few hours to pay my rent for a year.

I thought of the people at the hospital, of Selena trying to find a job, of the thousands of homeless people in this city.

Performance or not, guilt overwhelmed me.

“Find something for the party?” Brendan asked as he came to find me. “Ruth confirmed that it’s definitely black-tie, so any of these would be—Simone, what’s wrong?”

I turned. His face blackened.

“Again? Those fuckers, I thought I made myself clear.” He turned with clenched fists, presumably to locate the clerk. It was only then that I realized he thought I was being mistreated.

“No, no, she’s been lovely.” I grabbed his sleeve to pull him back.

“Then what happened?”

I shook my head. How could I say this without sounding totally ungrateful? “How do you sleep at night?”

Okay, probably not that way.

Brendan frowned. “Come again?”

I groaned. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then what did you mean?”

I sighed. “Only…don’t you think it’s kind of obscene, spending money like this? When there are so many people hurting and in need?”

The anger disappeared from his features, replaced by something else: confusion. “Nowyou’re feeling guilty? Simone, you just signed”—he stopped and glanced around before continuing in much lower voice—“angel, you just signed a contract for ten million dollars, and you want to lecture me about money?”

I rubbed my face. “I—no. Yes. I don’t know. That’s different. Or maybe it’s not. Maybe I’m part of the problem too. I just feel so—it’s confusing. These dresses are beautiful, but they are so expensive they don’t even have price tags, and you’ve already spent so much money, and it seems, I don’t know, a bit problematic, you know?”

That brow arched again. I wondered if he knew how cute he looked when he was confused. “A bit problematic?”

I huffed. “You don’t see it?”

“No, I do. I just think it’s funny you’re having a crisis of conscience after agreeing to do this very thing with me.”

I flopped onto the settee. I had nothing more to say.

Brendan took a seat beside me. “I get it. It’s a lot. Gotta be very different from what you’re used to.”

“I buy my clothes at the Goodwill. Different is the understatement of the century.”

He chuckled, but didn’t reply.

I leaned my head on his shoulder. Maybe we’d never be legitimate lovers, but in moments like these, it almost felt like Brendan could be a real friend. “I’m trying. I’m trying to be the woman you need me to be.”

“Oh, I know. I heard your little speech when we walked in here. Very imperious of you.”

He grinned. I shoved a fist into his shoulder, and he caught it to hold in his lap, massaging my fingers as he spoke.