Chapter 12 Chapter 12 The Mall
Walking into Neiman Marcus, Gemma hooks her arm through mine, practically vibrating with excitement.
“So that happened! Sergey Fedorov—he is a hottie. We are going to the fight?” she asks, eyes wide.
“We are,” I grin, unable to hide it. Then it hits me. Fuck, he is 27 years old, that's ten years older than me.
She lets go and drifts ahead with Erika, already in full mission mode, scanning racks like generals planning a war. Tish passes me with Colt, her expression still icy. I don’t chase it. She’ll get over it—or she won’t. Either way, I’m done bending for people.
I glance around, confused why half the guys are here. This was supposed to be a girls’ day. Then I spot Vincent with Ashley, she takes him toward the jewelry counter. She’s pulling him along, pointing at something shiny. He glances back at me, that familiar look flickering in his eyes, and I roll mine hard enough to hurt. He smiles anyway, like nothing ever happened. Like he has not been ignoring me. Why do I even care? He has a girlfriend.
Nick jogs up beside me.
“Damn, Elle. You pack a punch. Guess you didn’t need Andreas to handle Matt, huh?”
“Andreas saved my dumb ass,” Matt says, stepping up on my other side.
Of course.
“I’m really sorry for the way I acted,” he adds, quieter now.
I stop walking and turn to him fully. “If I accept your apology, will you leave me alone? No more texts, calls, or dumb fucking flowers. We are not dating. Ever.”
He exhales, shoulders slumping. “I was hoping you’d give me another chance. Like I want to give you.”
I stare at him, unimpressed. “Why, Matt? So you can have your fun with me? No, thank you.” I tilt my head, studying his face. He looks wrecked. Good. “Fine. I accept your apology for what you said. I’m not apologizing for what I did. It wasn’t a mistake. I wanted to do it, and I did it.”
“Fine,” he mutters, irritation slipping through. “I’ve got to grab something for my mom and sister. See you later.”
He walks off, shoulders stiff.
Nick leans closer. “He really wanted another shot.”
I shake my head. “Once I’m done, I’m done.” The words feel solid, unmovable. “Things were said. They don’t just disappear.”
We catch up to Gemma and Erika, who already have a sales associate pulling dresses left and right. The racks are endless—silks, sequins, gowns that cost more than my entire childhood.
“Have fun, sis!” Nick calls, dropping onto the couch outside the dressing rooms.
“Hurry up, Elle!” Gemma waves me over. “We have a lot to try on. We are going to bag that boxer!”
“Gemma, we are not bagging anyone,” I say, grabbing a dress off her arm. “We’re watching him fight.”
My phone buzzes. I pull it out—and there it is. Sergey.
A slow smile spreads across my face before I can stop it.
Gemma peeks over my shoulder. “Damn. Well, well. Looks like you already got him. Don’t ditch us Friday—we have pizza after your game.”
“Invite him,” Nick calls from the couch. “Better if he’s seen with all of us, if you get my drift.”
I glance back at them, then grin. “We could always go to my new place.”
Nick sits up. “New place?” he follows me into the dressing room, even though he should not be in here.
I slip into a dressing room and start undressing. “My grandmother—the Duchess—left me money. A lot. Gemma’s dad helped me find a condo. I get the keys tomorrow.” I step into the first dress. “I need furniture. You in?”
He leans against the doorframe as I step out. He scans me, unimpressed. “No.”
“Dress or helping me?”
“The dress,” he says immediately. “I’ll help. I’ll drag Colt too. Whatever you need, baby sis.”
Four hours later, I am done. Completely done. My skin is raw from zippers and fabric, my patience gone, my stomach growling like it’s ready to fight someone. I will turn into a mean little troll, I need food.
“I’m trying one more,” I warn, grabbing the last dress.
It’s silver. Liquid silver. The fabric slides over my skin like water, clinging to every curve. I zip the side slowly, watching myself in the mirror. My nipples press against the thin material, impossible to hide. The dress hits just above my knees, the back dipping low enough to tease the edge of my tattoo.
I step out.
Silence.
Then—reaction.
Nick actually blinks twice. “That is way too distracting. Nope. I put money on him—he’s going to lose.”
“Oh yeah, that’s the one!” Gemma practically screams. “You look sinful. It’s too much!”
I glance down at myself, smoothing the fabric over my hips. “It’s not too long?” The back rests right below my lower back tattoo, I got that when I was sixteen, my dad took me. Any lower and might as well not wear the dress. The front is halter that dips low too, a lot of side boob, it covers the goods but also shows them off. I am going to need a full body wax.
From the couch, Vincent’s voice cuts through. “What the fuck is short to you?”
Ashley is sitting on his lap.
Asshole.
I narrow my eyes, then hike the dress up until it’s barely covering anything. “This is short.”
Ashley yelps and slaps a hand over his eyes. Everyone bursts out laughing.
I drop the hem and turn to the sales associate, who looks as exhausted as I feel.
“I’ll take it. I need the Fall Louboutin pumps in black—the six-inch heel, not the three—in a size six. And the black mink. Small.”
Retail therapy, but make it dangerous.
Tish and Erika each grab dresses too. I don’t hesitate—I pay for everything. When I pull out the black card, I feel eyes on me. Matt’s especially. Suspicious. Curious.
Good.
Let them wonder.
The lawyer told me to use it when I needed something.
And right now?
I need to look unforgettable.