Page 8 of Tempting Frankie (Lust & Luxury #1)

Francesca

H e grabs one of the bags, pulling out items clearly for himself and I’m just left here looking at a year’s worth of rent. We are from two different worlds and I’m wondering if I just blacked out about it when I was dating his son.

That’s the only logical explanation.

Fingering all the soft, expensive items in front of me, I quickly dress because this may be the only time I get to wear something like this.

Wasting no time, he has us out of the hotel room and down to the lobby as if we’re on some rigid schedule.

I slide into the plush leather seat of the town car. Alexander settles in beside me, his muscular thigh pressing against mine. The scent of his cologne—spicy and expensive fills the enclosed space.

“Where are we going?” I ask, trying to keep the nervous edge out of my voice.

Alexander just smirks, tapping on the partition to signal the driver. “You'll see.”

As we pull away from the curb, I stare out the tinted window at the bustling city.

New Haven never truly sleeps, and that’s why I live in one of the outer boroughs.

My mind is reeling, trying to process everything that's happened in the last twenty-four hours.

How the hell did I end up here, in the back of a luxury car with my ex-boyfriend's obscenely wealthy father?

“So,” Alexander's deep voice cuts through my thoughts. “Let's talk about that contract you signed.”

I tense, my stomach doing an anxious flip. “Right. That.”

“Three months of exclusivity,” he states, his eyes locked on me. “That means no other men, period. You're mine and mine alone.”

I swallow hard, nodding. “I remember.”

“Good,” he growls, his hand coming to rest possessively on my leg. “Because I don't share, Francesca. Ever.”

The weight of his palm burns through the thin fabric of my dress. I try to ignore the way my body responds, heat pooling low in my belly.

“The terms are simple,” Alexander continues. “I provide for all your needs—housing, food, clothing, entertainment. In return, you're at my beck and call, day or night.”

I bristle at that. “I'm not some trained puppy, Alexander. I have a life, you know. A job.”

He chuckles, the sound sending shivers down my spine. “By the time I'm done with you, you won't give a fuck about that dead-end gig.”

I open my mouth to argue, but he silences me with a look.

“Your student loans? Paid. Your apartment? You're moving out today.”

My head spins. It's too much, too fast. “Wait, what? You can't just?—”

“I can and I have,” he cuts me off. “You signed the deal, remember? You agreed to let me take care of everything. The rent was paid for a year, so your sister still has a place, and she doesn’t need to pay a housing expense.”

I did, but I didn't realize…fuck. What have I gotten myself into?

“Look,” Alexander's voice softens slightly. “I know it's a lot to take in. But I meant what I said last night, Francesca. All of your time for three months and then we’ll reevaluate.”

His hand slides up, cupping my face. Despite myself, I lean into his touch.

“And what exactly does that entail?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

“It means you'll be at my beck and call,” he says, his tone matter-of-fact. “When I want you, where I want you. No questions asked.”

I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry. “And in return?”

Alexander's lips curl into a predatory smile. “In return, you get me. All of me. My protection, my resources, my attention.”

I shift in my seat, uncomfortably aware of how wet I'm getting and why the fuck am I not protesting about any of this? I’ve just rolled over and been like yes, pay my bills and fuck me you fine ass man. “And what about boundaries?”

“Smart girl,” he murmurs approvingly. “We'll discuss those in detail. I want to know your hard limits, your soft limits. What you like, what you don't. I'm not interested in doing anything you're truly uncomfortable with.”

I nod, relief flooding through me.

The rest of the drive passes in tense silence. I stare out the window, watching the city blur by, trying to wrap my head around everything. Alexander's hand remains on my thigh, a warm, heavy weight that both comforts and unnerves me.

My mind races, replaying our conversation.

It's all so surreal, the way he's just upended my entire life in the span of a day.

Part of me wants to scream, to demand he turn the car around and take me back to my crappy apartment and my soul-crushing jobs.

But a bigger part…shit. A bigger part of me is thrilled, excited even, by the possibilities stretching out before me.

Also, it’s like the universe it letting me send out a big karmic fuck you to Cameron for how he made me feel and how he treated me.

Speaking of my ex, I sneak a glance at his dad.

His jaw is set, chiseled and sharp enough to cut stone, his nose aristocratic leading up to eyes focused straight ahead.

He looks every inch the powerful CEO. Another tailored suit, perfectly styled hair, and an aura of quiet authority.

It's hard to reconcile this man with the few hazy memories I have of him from when I dated his son.

Back then, he was just my boyfriend's intimidating father, someone to avoid at awkward dinners between us. Now...now he's something else entirely.

The car slows and I realize we're in a part of the city I've only seen in magazines. Full of gilded storefronts and impossibly thin women toting shopping bags worth more than I make in a year.

“What are we doing here?” I ask, frowning as the driver pulls up to the curb.

Alexander finally turns to me, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Shopping.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Shopping? Seriously?”

He nods, already reaching for the door handle. “Come.”

He extends his hand, and I follow him out onto the sidewalk. The warm spring air hits me, carrying the scent of nearby flowers and expensive perfume. A couple of well-dressed women give us curious looks as they pass.

Suddenly I feel like Vivian and he’s Edward.

“Alexander,” I hiss, suddenly aware of how out of place I must look. “Why are we shopping here?”

He places a hand on the small of my back, guiding me toward one of the boutiques. “Getting you a new wardrobe, of course.”

I dig my heels in, forcing him to stop. “What? No. I don't need?—”

“Francesca,” he cuts me off, his voice gentle but firm. “I'm taking care of all your needs now, remember? That includes clothing.”

I cross my arms, scowling. “So, what, you're going to dress me up like some kind of doll? Pick out all my clothes for me?”

To my surprise, Alexander laughs. “I could,” he admits, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “And I won't lie. The thought is appealing. Lord knows I have the taste and the means to do so.”

I bristle at that, opening my mouth to tell him exactly where he can shove his 'taste', but he holds up a hand.

“However,” he continues, “I want you to have whatever you want, whatever makes you feel good. We're going to shop together.”

I blink, thrown off guard. “I…what?”

Alexander's eyes soften, and he reaches out to tuck a stray curl behind my ear. The gesture is oddly tender, and I have to fight the urge to lean into his touch.

Do not fucking get attached to this man, bitch.

“Francesca,” he says, his voice low and intimate. “I meant what I said about taking care of your needs. All of them. That includes making sure you feel confident and comfortable in your own skin.”

I swallow hard, unsure how to respond. This isn't what I expected at all.

“Besides,” he adds with a wicked grin, “I'm rather looking forward to watching you try things on.”

I swallow hard, my cheeks burning as I follow Alexander into the first boutique. The saleswoman's eyes widen when she sees him, practically tripping over herself to greet us. I hang back, fingering the racks of impossibly tiny dresses and blouses.

“See anything you like?” Alexander murmurs in my ear.

I shake my head, moving on to the next store. And the next. And the next. Each one is the same—racks of size zeros and twos, stick-thin mannequins mocking me with their jutting collarbones and thigh gaps.

After an hour of this, Alexander pulls me to a stop outside yet another designer shop. “Alright, what's going on? You haven't even tried anything on.”

I laugh, but it comes out bitter and harsh. “What's wrong? Are you fucking blind, Alexander? None of this shit is going to fit me. I'm not exactly sample size; in case you hadn't noticed.”

His brows furrow and he scoffs. “That's ridiculous. There has to be?—”

“There's not,” I snap, finally meeting his gaze. “Trust me, places like this don't make stuff for girls built like me.”

Alexander's jaw tightens, a muscle ticking in his cheek.

Without a word, he pulls out his phone and steps away, speaking in low, clipped tones.

I lean against the storefront, arms crossed defensively over my chest. God, this was such a mistake.

What the hell was I thinking, agreeing to this insane arrangement?

A warm hand on my lower back startles me out of my spiral. “Come with me,” Alexander says, guiding me down the street. We stop in front of a chic boutique, its windows dark and a “Closed” sign hanging in the door.

“Uh, Alexander? They're not open,” I point out.

He just smirks, reaching for the door handle. To my shock, it swings open easily. A bell chimes as we step inside, and suddenly the lights flicker on. A short woman with close-cropped silver hair appears, beaming at us.

“Mr. Steele! So wonderful to see you again,” she gushes, air-kissing his cheeks. Her gaze falls on me, and I resist the urge to shrink back. “And this must be the young lady you mentioned. Come in, come in!”

I shoot Alexander a questioning look, but he just ushers me further into the shop. Unlike the other stores, this one is filled with a dizzying array of sizes and styles. Flowing maxi dresses, tailored blazers, curve-hugging jeans. My eyes dart from rack to rack, drinking it all in.