Falling for My Boyfriend's Dad

“Thank you so much for your help, but I can’t,” I told the salesgirl firmly. “I’m so sorry for taking up your time.”

But the salesgirl merely looked at Mr. Martin, who gave no sign that he was ready to leave.

“Janine,” he commanded. “On my charge card.”

“Right away,” she said snappily. “Would you like to wear it out of the store, or should I pack it up?”

And the big man looked at me speculatively, his eyes caressing the gem slung around my elegant neck, the dip of my collarbones.

“On,” he said with finality. “Let’s let her wear it. But we’re not done yet,” he said with a smirk. “Can you bring out a couple more things? Things the lady might like?”

And of course the saleswoman bowed again, obsequious, happy to do whatever he ordered.

“Yes, yes, Mr. Martin,” she practically panted, thinking of the commission coming her way. “I’ll be back in just a moment,” she said, scurrying off, probably going into their private collection to pick out their most expensive stuff.

But once she was gone, I turned to Mr. Martin, eyes blazing.

“Are you crazy?” I said under my breath. “What is this for?”

Rob looked at me amused.

“It’s not often that you buy a beautiful woman jewels and she’s offended,” he said dryly. “What do you think it’s for? It’s because you’re amazing, honey, absolutely amazing and I want you to have it.”

I flushed hotly with pleasure, but then went ice cold once again. Because was he paying me for the physical? Paying me for the right to be in my body, to taste, to touch, to own?

And so I looked at him frigidly.

“You don’t have to pay me,” I said, voice clipped. “I’m giving of my own free will, it’s not something you have to fork out jewels for.”

And Rob threw his head back and laughed then, white teeth flashing, mirth dancing in his blue eyes.

“Honey, I’m not paying you anything, these are gifts,” he said mildly. “I’m giving them to someone I care about, someone who means a lot to me, and I want you to take them and look beautiful,” he said with an amused grin.

I was taken aback. Was I someone he cared about? Did I mean a lot to him? How much? It sounded good, really right actually, and I wanted to ask more, to press on, but at that very moment Janine walked in again, a huge tray of rings in one hand, another huge tray of bracelets in the other, the gems winkling and sparkling under the lights.

“Here we are,” she exclaimed, sitting down once more. “These are all size seven rings, honey, so they’ll be too big for you but we can re-size everything so that it fits perfectly.”

And there was nothing I could say as gems glimmered under the lights, the saleslady presenting one bauble after another, Mr. Martin nodding far too many times as he looked at each one, placing them on my hands, my wrists, my ears, my neck. It was like he loved dressing me up, like I was his favorite doll except that instead of cheap doll clothes, I was being decorated with millions in jewels.

“Gorgeous,” he murmured, looking at me, blue eyes burning with fire. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

The saleswoman tittered.

“They are, aren’t they?” she cooed. “The rubies are from Burma, we actually own the mine they come from.”

But Mr. Martin shook his head.

“Naw, not the rubies, the girl,” he ground out. “Ally you’re stunning, absolutely the right setting for these babies.”

And I colored then. It was embarrassing that he was talking like this in front of a stranger, so I just nodded stiffly and grabbed his hand.

“Can we go now?” I choked out. On the one hand this was an amazing experience, I’ve never been treated like a VIP anywhere I’ve shopped, but on the other, I still hadn’t settled into my comfort zone, not entirely. It’s sad, but I’m more at ease in a Barnes and Noble or community bookstore, so this whole special treatment was still unsettling, leaving me a little breathless. Besides, Mr. Martin was spending so much money, my head was spinning, lungs growing tight and I needed to get some air, step outside for a moment. The alpha caught on immediately because a big hand descended over mine then, strong, reassuring.

“Of course we can,” he ground out, looking at me closely. “The lady needs some air. Can you pack this up please? We’ll take them,” he said with finality, and in a jiff, all the jewels were rolled up into velvet cases, each one sealed in a beautiful blue box.

“Thank you for coming, Mr. Martin,” our saleslady purred once more as she escorted us to the door. “Remember, my name’s Janine and you have my cell if there are any questions. Please come back anytime. Happy Thanksgiving!” And with that, I was whisked outside onto the sidewalk.