Chapter 20 Chapter 20
They pulled up to a boutique so glamorous it almost sparkled. Gold trimmings caught the morning light, the window displays dressed with mannequins in satin and silk. Zarlia’s brows pinched together as she turned to Stetson, who was already stepping out of the car like he’d been here a hundred times before.
Her eyes narrowed. “What exactly are we buying?”
He closed his door and adjusted his cuffs, his tone smooth and unbothered. “Anything you want.”
She scoffed. “Anything I want? What is this, some kind of bribe to make me stay with you?”
His jaw flexed, and for a moment his gaze swept over her — the defiance in her eyes, the sharp curve of her lips. Then his voice dropped low, measured and calm. “It’s not bribing. Since you’re going to be my mate — my partner — I want you to look the part.”
Her mouth fell open a little, but she quickly rolled her eyes to hide her surprise. “Right. The ‘Luna aesthetic.’ How could I forget?”
Without waiting for him, she pushed through the boutique doors, the soft jingle of the bell announcing her entrance. The smell of vanilla and expensive perfume hit her instantly. Everything was soft and spotless — marble floors, plush carpets, the kind of place where every whisper seemed to cost a fortune.
“Welcome, madam!” A woman in a silk uniform practically floated to her side. “You must be here for the new season collection?”
Zarlia flashed her most disarming smile. “I guess I am.”
While the attendant led her toward racks of elegant gowns and glittering shoes, Stetson stood a few paces behind, quietly surveying the room. His presence alone turned heads — tall, sharp-featured, that air of quiet command that made everyone instinctively lower their voices.
“Gosh, he’s so handsome”, whispered a lady to her friend.
He drifted toward a section of sleek evening dresses, his fingers brushing over the smooth fabric. His gaze lingered on a deep emerald gown. She’d look good in this, he thought, catching himself before his mind went too far.
Meanwhile, Zarlia was doing her own kind of damage.
Since she was with Stetson, Romero was history. He could flirt, cheat, vanish — she didn’t care. Not now. Right now, she was standing in a luxury boutique with a werewolf alpha’s credit card and the freedom to spend. Though he had a bossy attitude but he was more of a man than Romero.
And she was going to spend till her heart was content.
She piled dresses — silk, satin, chiffon — one after another. Jewelry, heels, handbags. She didn’t even check the price tags. By the time she was done, the counter looked like a miniature fashion week runway.
Stetson’s eyes narrowed slightly as he approached. He glanced at the pile, then at her.
“Is this all?”
Zarlia tilted her head. “Yes. Why?”
He gave a quiet, disapproving hum. “You want them to think I’m broke?”
She looked at him, then at the mountain of designer clothes she’d just picked — easily worth millions. Her lips curved into a smirk. “Fine then,” she said sweetly. “I’ll make you broke.”
The boutique attendant, sensing opportunity, jumped right in. “Madam, would you also like to see our lingerie collection? Private section, just through here.”
Zarlia blinked. “What?”
The attendant lowered her voice, smiling knowingly. “He’s your boyfriend, isn’t he?”
Zarlia’s throat went dry. She glanced over her shoulder, where Stetson stood with his arms crossed, watching her — calm but impossibly intense. His expression unreadable, like he was trying to keep himself from reacting.
Her lips twitched. Two could play this game.
“Yes,” she said softly, her tone laced with mischief. “I guess he is my boyfriend now.”
The attendant beamed and led her deeper into the boutique — to a section bathed in low, golden light. Racks of lace, satin ribbons, corsets, and sheer fabrics shimmered around her. Zarlia’s face warmed immediately. Her eyes caught a black onemade of leather and belts and a red one made of net and silk, both extremely revealing.
“Oh no,” she murmured, stepping back. “I’m not— I mean, he’s not—”
Her words stumbled, but her curiosity lingered. Every piece whispered temptation, her mind drifting to images of Stetson’s expression if he sees her in any of these. Still, she shook her head and turned away, pretending not to notice the mirror reflecting the faint pink on her cheeks.
She caught sight of another section — long rows of elegant gowns, regal and commanding. The kind worn by queens, not girlfriends. Slowly, her smirk returned.
She looked back at the attendant. “Get the lingerie,” she said, her tone turning cool and deliberate. “I’ll let him earn that view.”
The woman’s eyes widened a little, clearly impressed.
Zarlia ran her fingers along a silver gown, the fabric gliding like water beneath her touch. For a moment, she imagined walking into a room beside Stetson — not as his captive, not as his plaything, but as his equal.
And when she turned back toward the front, she saw him — still watching her from afar, eyes dark and unreadable.
Her pulse quickened. She lifted her chin, smirked again, and strutted toward the counter with her armful of gowns.
She placed then on the counter and the attendant brought in more. Zarlia grinned at Stetson’s raised brow; she said she was going to make him broke and she guessed she achieved it—until her paid effortlessly, her jaw dropped.
“So much for making me broke Miss Shaw”, she frowned at his statement as he slowly bent down. He might be rich but he was still an asshole yet still better than Romero and—
She froze when his hands touched her foot, his gentle hands buckled her sandals that had threatened to break free. He held her foot like it was the most fragile this he’d ever held, that alone made her cheeks red and each graze of his fingers against her skin left heat in its wake.
The attendant laughed amongst her colleagues as they whispered to themselves. Zarlia could feel her face burning up. She didn’t realize her foot was that sensitive, pretty sure anywhere could be sensitive as long as he was the one touching it.
Suddenly her hand knocked over a dress to the floor. Her eyes immediately narrowed at it, she’d recognized the black leather and belts anywhere.
He finally stood up, picking it up but she was still frozen.
Taking a look at it his eyes met hers for a brief moment before clearing his throat, placing it back in the counter for the attendants to pack it with the rest of the stuff.
“Next time if you can’t buckle your sandal properly, tell me to do it. Wouldn’t want you falling on your face. Not really the image I want my Luna to uphold” he said and her the color on her face immediately drained.
Of course, he was mister perfect and so must his Luna. Zarlia huffed and rolled her eyes, Stetson always had a way of ruining anything good going on. She turned on her heels and left, failing to notice the crimson that threatened to appear on Stetson’s face.
He sighed, loosening his tie a bit, trying to control himself.
“Our girl’s got taste”, Asher chuckled. Stetson’s eyes going back to the lingerie, his mind creating images of her in it, only that made him hard but he immediately dismissed it as they came.
“Shut up”, Stetson muttered before leaving while the attendants followed behind him with a couple of bags.
They stepped out of the boutique, the soft chime of the door fading behind them as sunlight spilled over the pavement. Zarlia hugged the glossy shopping bags close, the scent of new leather and perfume clinging faintly to her skin. Stetson walked beside her, phone in hand, cool and composed as always.
A few workers carried the remaining bags into Stetson’s trunk.
“Actually,” she said suddenly, glancing up at him, “I need a new phone.”
He turned his head slightly, one brow raised. “What happened to the last one?”
Zarlia hesitated. The memory flashed — Mr. Vale’s angry face, his hand snatching her phone, the shattering sound as it hit the road below. She swallowed hard and forced a casual shrug.
“I… misplaced it,” she said.
He gave a quiet hum that didn’t sound convinced. Then, without a word, he reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a phone — sleek, new, still wrapped in its protective film.
“Good thing I had a feeling you didn’t have yours anymore,” he said, his tone calm but unreadable. “I tried calling. And texting.”
Her brows lifted, a teasing glint in her eyes. “Texting? What kind of texts? I can’t actually imagine you texting”
He slid her the phone, not meeting her gaze. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Oh, come on,” she pressed, stepping in front of him as he tried to walk past. “You can’t just say that and go quiet. What kind of texts?”
He looked at her finally — eyes steady, expression unreadable, though something faintly tense flickered behind them. “The kind I’m not repeating,” he said, brushing past her and opening the car door.Zarlia pout, tucking the phone into her bag as she slipped into the passenger seat. “So… emotional, I bet,” she muttered under her breath.
He said nothing, but the corner of his mouth twitched ever so slightly as he started the engine.
They drove in silence for a while, the hum of the car filling the air between them. Zarlia leaned back against the seat, lost in thought — about the phone, the boutique, the way he’d looked at her when she wore that sundress.
Then, just as they stopped at a red light, her stomach betrayed her. It growled — loud enough to make her freeze.
Stetson glanced sideways, one eyebrow rising in quiet amusement. “Hungry?”
She sank a little in her seat, embarrassed. “Maybe… just a bit.”He exhaled through his nose, faintly amused, then made a turn down another street. “Then we’ll fix that.”
Zarlia nodded with an awkward smile. Of all days, it’s today her stomach decided to disgrace her in front of Stetson—of all people.