Chapter 60 Accused of theft
~~Charlotte's POV~~
We had returned to America a week ago.
My broken shoulder didn't hurt anymore.
Damein had been busy putting his soldiers in order, and I was bored to death. I dressed up in a blue hoodie. I wore a hat and put the hoodie cap over my head to shield me from the sun. I also wore a pair of blue jeans and a black pair of sneakers.
My driver had stopped across the street and let me walk into a boutique alone. This wasn't one of Damien's; I wanted to go to a place where I wasn't recognized and treated like a goddess.
The store was filled with luxury items as I walked in. I looked to my left. There was a woman in her mid-thirties; she was dressed in a black suit jacket and skirt, her brown hair was up in a bun, and she adjusted a few pieces of jewelry on the table before her.
I walked past her, heading deeper into the store to look at a few dresses.
“Excuse me, ma'am?"
The lady's voice halted me in my tracks. I turned to face her, my brow raised. “Yes? ”,
She squinted at me, probably because she could barely see my face over the hat and the hoodie; the sunglasses weren't helping either.
Her eyes scanned me, a twisted frown on her face. “Are you here to see somebody?"
“Ah,” I immediately took off my glasses but left the hoodie and hat, then walked towards her. "Sorry, I should have said hi. I want to get a few dresses,” I clenched my blue hoodie, "and more hoodies,” I added.
She rolled her eyes and pointed at the entrance. “This isn't the dollar store or a thrift shop. There's a shop opposite this place; go there and you'll find your type."
I clenched Damien's black card in my hand. “I don't want to go there; I want to shop here."
Her eyes blazed with anger as she stepped out from behind her counter and walked towards me. “Do you want me to call security? The dresses here are more expensive than your whole life put together. What makes you think you can afford anything?”
I slid out the black card and held it out to her; her eyes widened. “Where did you get that?"
“It's my husband's card."
Her laughter filled the air, her head turning in either direction. “What? Your husband? Yeah, sure, and my husband owns this boutique,” she continued to laugh and wiped the tears from her eyes.
“Fine, I'll leave,” I said in anger and turned to walk off, but her hand grabbed my hoodie, and she pulled me back.
“That card is fake, isn't it? You came here to steal; I'm calling the police."
“It's not a fake card,” I insisted.
She grabbed the card from me; before I even knew what was happening, she began to call for security. Soon two men dressed in uniforms ran to us. Everybody in the shop turned to face us; my face flushed red with embarrassment.
“This woman is a thief!" he announced.
“I didn't steal anything!" I choked, forcing myself to not shed a tear.
The security men grabbed me.
“Call the police,” the receptionist ordered.
"Stop! Wait! Check the card! I swear I'm innocent!" I shouted as they dragged me away.
“Fine,” the receptionist smirked. She moved to her counter and inserted the card into her computer. I looked around as everybody watched, shame brewing within me.
Soon the receptionists' grey eyes swept up.
I felt relieved; at least now she knew I wasn't lying.
“This is Damien Davenport's card."
I nodded. “Yes, he's my husband."
She burst into loud laughter, and the people around began to murmur.
“Damien Davenport? The Mafia boss? He wouldn't waste his time on a thief like you; you stole his card."
“I didn't!" I shouted.
Her face twisted as she marched to me and landed a stinging slap on my cheeks, "Liar!"
She looked to one of the workers. “Call Mr. Davenport; tell him that a woman is here pretending to be his wife."
I felt relieved as the man walked off; Damein would definitely save me.
The receptionist's eyes narrowed, a smug smile on her face. “When I return his card, he's going to see how beautiful I am, and he's going to want me,” she smirked. “He has been one of our biggest donors; he comes in here once in a while, but he never notices me. Today, it's going to be difficult to ignore; after all, I got his card back."
She had feelings for Damien?
Of course she did; who wouldn't?
She landed another hot slap on my face, and another, until tears streamed down my face.
Just then the man who had gone to call Damein rushed to us with a phone in his hand.
"Charlotte?!" Damein's tone was laced with urgency. “Is that you?"
“It's me," my voice shook.
The receptionist's gaze widened in shock.
“Are you good? I didn't know you were going shopping. I could have come along,” he said.
“It's okay,”
He froze for a few seconds. “Are you okay? You don't sound too good, and why did they say you stole my card? Didn't you introduce yourself?”
The men who had grabbed me immediately let go. “She didn't believe me."
"Fuck, are you crying?"
I stayed silent; I didn't want him to hurt the receptionist.
“Stay there, I'm coming,” he said and hung up immediately.
“You are his wife?” She spat bitterly, “How could he marry somebody like you!"
.
I silently moved to a chair and sat, waiting patiently for Damein to get here.
"Charlotte?!" he roared as he walked in, his eyes scanning the place.
The receptionist fell to the floor, rubbing her hands together frantically, "I'm sorry, I didn't know she was your wife."
She walked past her and ran to me, kneeling before me with a worried look on his face. He began to speak, “Are you okay?" His fingers brushed my face. “Why is your face red?"
“She slapped her, sir,” one of the men pointed at the receptionist.
Damein stood up in shock, "What?!"
The receptionist laid flat on the ground. “Please…spare me. I thought she stole your card!"
“How dare you disrespect my wife!” He barked and marched to stand before her. “Stand up,” he commanded.
She told you, her hands visibly shaking, and bowed her head.
I stood up from my seat and walked to them. “Don't hurt her; I just want the card back,” I breathed.
“Your face is tomato red; don't you think that is enough reason to rip out her throat?" he growled.
I slipped my hand into his, and his gaze moved to mine. “Let's just take our card and go."
Damein brought out a gun and aimed it at her head. “How about I blow her head off?"
The woman fell on her knees, shaking frantically.
The people in the boutique all moved back in fear.
I looked around. I knew Damien would definitely kill her for m
e, but there were children here; I didn't want them to watch as a woman got killed.
"Damein!" I shouted.
He clicked the trigger. "Yes?"