“See . . .” she mumbled.
He stepped back, his eyes growing even darker. His gaze wandered over her like fingers. His Adam’s apple bobbed under the stubble covering his throat as he swallowed. “You look . . .” His voice was a hoarse whisper. “I like it.”
“Lucian . . . It doesn’t fit.”
“We’ll take it. I want one in every color.”
Her palms slapped into her thighs. “It doesn’t even make sense. There’re no pockets to hold my stuff. It’s November. I’ll freeze.”
“Then you’ll wear it in spring.”
“I won’t be here in spring.”
His head jerked and his eyes narrowed. They stared at each other for a long moment, each seemingly challenging the other, but about what she wasn’t sure.
“Every color, Evelyn. Try on the next outfit.” He turned and left the genie bottle, taking all ninety-nine other Lucians with him.
Scout groaned. Would she ever get her way again?
Chapter 9
Glass Slippers and Queens
Scout’s weight shifted from foot to foot as she waited for Lucian beside the counter of the boutique. A man in a Patras blazer arrived and quickly carried boxes out to a delivery truck intended for the hotel. It was all too much.
Lucian had spent enough money in the past few hours that could probably feed the shelter’s homeless for a year. Scout understood he was filthy rich, but seeing him in action was something altogether different. This was beyond rich. This was pure wealth.
Lucian had requested she wear one of the more casual outfits home. It was a pair of skintight midnight blue jeans and a loose gossamer blouse that hung open at the collar and gathered around her waist with a delicate little beaded belt. On her feet she wore very pointy high-heeled shoes that were impossible to walk in. They reminded her more of weapons than footwear.
Scout had to turn away when Lucian signed the receipt. She didn’t want to see such excess wasted on her. She’d sell it all, she vowed. Sell it and buy enough food to feed everyone at the tracks for months.
Thinking of the tracks made her think of Pearl. She hoped her mother was better today than she’d been the day before. Had she found the food she left her?
A warm wool camel-colored trench coat was draped over her shoulders. Lucian took her arm and led her back to the limo. With tiny ticking feet like a bird, she tiptoed beside him in the silly shoes. Stepping close to the limo, she stilled with the oddest sense she was forgetting something.
“My bag!”
“It’s in the limo,” Lucian said, directing her there as well.
Scout dug her sharp heels into the pavement. “My clothes!”
“You just got an entirely new wardrobe, Evelyn. Let the other pieces go to Goodwill.”
She was Goodwill!
Yanking her elbow out of his grip, he scowled at her. “That’s my stuff, Lucian. I’m not leaving it.”
Scout turned and trotted stupidly back into the boutique. Fucking asinine shoes. How was anyone supposed to get anywhere quick in these? She was just in time. Sonia, the bitch, had her Botox lip curled as she dangled Scout’s belongings, pinched between two fake nails, over the wastebasket.
“Hey!” Scout snapped and click clacked over to her with as much dignity as she could manage. Yanking her stuff out of the woman’s manicured hand, she quickly felt for her money belt and let out a deep breath when she found it still wedged in the leg of her pants.
“This is my stuff!”
Sonia gasped, and she had to give her credit. She at least had the good sense to look frightened. Scout turned in a huff and stilled when she spotted Lucian standing by the door. Great. His arms crossed over his chest as he leaned carelessly against the wall, taking in the scene. He was laughing at her, the bastard.
Scout rolled her eyes and trot-marched back to the limo. When he climbed inside the vehicle she scowled at him. He’d schooled his expression, but not very well.
His eyes still creased with laughter. “Remind me not to piss you off or take your stuff, Ms. Keats. I think Sonia just wet herself.”
Scout threw her shoe at him. He was lucky it was her old one and not the dagger on her foot. He caught it with a speed and precision that seemed impossible.
Glancing at the offensive shoe, he raised a brow and turned his gaze on her, dark promise of retaliation showed in his onyx stare. He chuckled and put the shoe aside. “Oh, Ms. Keats, I do believe you’re going to be a handful I will enjoy handling.”
A hint of the sexual predator he was hiding beneath that power suit announced itself and her body responded with a jolt of nerves. The car was too small for all the tension suddenly filling it, the tension she could barely breathe through, yet he seemed to be getting a thrill from. She looked out the window and hid her reaction with her best impression of indifference when she was anything but.