Chapter 22 CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: DUPE IN REAL.
ZARA.
My hand froze against his; on his wrist was a similar watch from the brand I had bought for him. I remembered seeing the same watch at the store and thinking it was old season, so it wasn't a good gift.
“How did you know I liked this brand?” He repeated, and the sudden excitement cut off my thought. I raised my head to him, and he smiled.
“I just guessed,” I lied. I didn't want him to know I had spent hours trying to find the perfect gift.
“I love the brand so much that I even got dupes of them,” he said, shaking his hand that was still in my grip. “Oh my goodness, princess, do you not have an idea what a dupe is?” he asked with a teasing smile on his lips.
“I know what it is,” I retorted, almost feeling embarrassed by his sudden spotlighting.
Dupes that cost thousands? Something felt off.
“I thought you had been sheltered all your life, that you had no idea what…” My hand clamped onto his mouth before he could embarrass me, and his eyes widened in shock. His words came out muffled against my palm.
He pressed his tongue onto my palm, and a sly expression took over his face.
“Eww,” I half-screamed as I took my hand out of his face and rubbed it over his chest, trying to ignore how tight his abs were. He looked too content with his actions, so his response was a smile.
“I just wanted to see the watch you bought me,” he said, taking up the box and carefully taking out the watch, ignoring his childish actions. I leaned and watched him admire it. “But what is the catch for?”
He was beginning to be cautious around me. Did everything have to be business?
“I was out shopping, and I saw it and thought it’d look good on you,” I lied.
“Are you for real?” he asked, eyes twinkling as he inspected the watch. I watched him turn it over countless times. What was he checking for? The authenticity?
I took the watch from him and slipped it on. “It fits,” I murmured.
“It does.”
“Which means I can’t return it,” I added.
“But this must cost a fortune.” He didn't sound like he was worried about the price; he was probably more worried about the motive behind the gift.
“Nothing is too big for my husband.” The words slipped out of my mouth before I even realised it. He stared at it for a while and then took both my hands in his and smiled.
“I now have to get you a gift back.” He paused; his words sounded like they were some form of exchange. “I have to,” he said, and it sounded like a promise.
I pulled my hands from his grip and took the old watch that was sitting between us over the counter.
“I will throw this out,” I said, and he snatched it from me.
“You can’t throw this out.” His words fell with urgency. Why not? My alarms went off. It was just an old dupe, and I had gotten him something new.
Michael Black shouldn't be able to afford a watch like this, not even a dupe. The more I go down, the more I realise this man isn't what he portrays to be.
“Why not? You have the original now; it should be enough for you,” I said with a smug smile, trying to gauge his reaction properly.
“I know, but even these dupes cost a lot of money,” he explained. I stared at it; it looked so much like the one I had seen in the store. Was this not a dupe?
The watch he had been wearing was a limited edition with five pieces in the world, two of which were in our city, one already owned by the heir of a prominent family; the attendant wouldn't say who. An idea formed in my head.
“I can buy you the original,” I offered, but he shook his head. That was it; this was the original one, and he, with his bartender’s salary, had gotten something this expensive.
“That won’t be necessary,” he added, dismissing it. Instead of pushing, I stored away this incident, hoping it would be enough evidence when I was going to need it.
“Thank you so much, Princess,” he said, finally snapping me back to reality as he admired the watch tenderly.
“Are you on shift tonight?” I asked, also deflecting.
He looked around and shook his head. “I already had my shift in the afternoon, slow and boring,” he yawned to further his point.
“Then shall we go home?” I said, and he nodded. He got out from behind the counter and came to stand before me, slowly taking off his apron and throwing it to the other side.
“My princess,” he stretched his hand to me, and I took it. “Shall we go home?”
He pulled me off the stool and spun me around gently before lifting me into his arms and holding me in a bridal style.
“What are you doing? Put me down,” I said, my head falling and my short pink hair trying to cover my face from the people who were in the bar. “It is embarrassing.”
“Are you saying it is embarrassing for a husband to carry his wife?”
“You are such a romantic.”
“Only if you want me to be,” he winked.
My hand wrapped around his neck, and I pulled in, but the buzzer from the counter made us stop. I pulled away and looked around.
“Let’s go home,” I said, ignoring how I had almost kissed him just now. It was cool; all was cool.
Except it wasn't. It felt dangerous, yet I was falling for danger.