“And I need a gown,” Eva said, aware she was about to invite speculation. “A very special event. One we’re planning at the last minute.”
The official announcement that was happening over the weekend. The one where she would have to pretend she felt something for Bastian. The one that would cement everything in place.
“How exciting!” The girl did a little clap and ran to the rack of gowns.
Eva watched Mak’s face as she tried the gowns on, one by one: some with structured bodices, some with filmy skirts that clung to her legs. One was nearly backless.
Mak’s jaw was tight, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes blank. And she knew it was because he wanted her. Because the heat that was crackling between them was palpable, even from across the room.
It was a strange mix of heaven and hell, knowing Mak wanted her as he did. Knowing it when she couldn’t have him. When he couldn’t make good on the promise in his eyes. It made her body ache, made her hands tremble.
She turned slightly in the cream-colored gown she was wearing, so that Mak could see her from the side, feigning interest in the mirror. “You don’t think it’s too low?” she asked.
It was strapless with good structure beneath a layer of filmy chiffon. The neck scooped down, revealing quite a bit of cleavage, the color making her golden skin glow.
“No, it’s lovely. Just the right amount of sexy,” the saleswoman offered.
“Great. Then this is it.” She could see Mak swallow hard. “I’ll take all of this,” she said, indicating the clothing that filled an entire rack that stretched across the dressing area. “Mak,” she said, directing her attention to him. “Can you arrange the details?”
One dark eyebrow arched and he stood, walking over to where she was. “I should think you’re quite capable.”
“Mmm. Quite, but I don’t carry this much money. I thought you might have some means of using my father’s credit card?”
“No.” He turned to the saleswoman. “I’ve got it.” He took a wallet from his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a credit card. One with his name on it. “Charge it all. She’ll take …” His eyes landed on a short, silvery dress that was on a mannequin. “… that one too.”
The other woman’s eyes widened. “Of course, Mr….”
“Nabatov.”
“Right.” She took the plastic and headed to the back of the store, where she could handle something as bourgeois as money in private.
“What was that about?” she asked, when they were alone.
“Is the dress for him?”
“No,” she said tartly. “It’s for you.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Anyway, why did you … pay?”
He shrugged. “Because I can.”
“Still, you’re going to start rumors.”
“Possible.”
Eva’s eyes were glittering with fire, and Mak couldn’t deny he was intrigued. He’d been stupid, producing his card and paying for her clothes. A surge of possessiveness, intense and dark, had taken over. A kind of possessiveness he’d never known he had the capacity to feel.
To show that she belonged to him in some way—a foolish thought. He crushed the things in his life. Broke the things he loved.
The word, the one he tried never to say, never to think, assaulted him. Tore at him like a rabid dog. He denied it. Tried to harden himself against the attack.
“You don’t care, do you?”
“Not a bit,” he said.
“So much for protecting my reputation.”
“That ship has sailed, don’t you think? Sunk, actually,” he said.
“I’m rebuilding it. In fact it’s set to float in about four weeks.”
The saleswoman came back with dollar signs in her eyes, clearly happy with the total, and her expected commission. “We can have all of it delivered to the palace for you,” she said.
“Do that,” Mak said. “And add a tip.” He named a figure that made the woman’s jaw drop.
“Thank you,” she said.
“I’ll come back sometime,” Eva said.
Mak could sense her loss of elation, the settling in of reality. Eva, for all that she was playing her smiley happy self, was not happy. And he could feel it. “Ready?” he asked.