He shakes his head. “Oh Carrigan, the bruises are just below the surface for you aren’t they,” he whispers quietly.
A tear escapes from my eye and rolls down my cheek as I stare at this man who I just met, but who sees me in a way that I don’t see myself, he sees something in me that’s not bad and twisted.
I hear Carson moving behind us and so must Fitzy, because he clears his throat and smiles. “That dress is a no. Unless it wows you and makes you feel beautiful, it’s not for you.”
Letting him guide me back behind the screen, I wipe the tears from my cheeks as I strip the dress off and try on the next outfit he hands me. An hour later I’ve discovered that I like skirts, the color blue, and blazers, and I have a real smile on my face for the first time in longer than I can remember.
Back home I have closets full of clothes, and I’ve always endured shopping rather than enjoyed it. But trying on all these outfits with Fitzy has been fun. His enthusiasm for clothes is overwhelming and with his sweet guiding help I think I’m starting to figure out what I like.
I expected Carson to leave, he’s a guy after all, what guy enjoys clothes. But the entire time I’ve been trying on outfits, he’s stayed in the living room, his feet propped up on the coffee table watching me, smiling as I smile, not giving an opinion until I’d given my own.
“Thank you,” I say to Fitzy, as he collapses the privacy screen.
“Pah, this is what I live for,” he says, waving my thanks off. “I’ll be back the day after tomorrow with some more choices for you now we’re getting a firmer fix on your style and I have your proper measurements, then going forward I’ll just send things out to you as I find them for you.”
“I’m not sure where I’m going to be staying, but for the moment I’m at the Haywood Hotel. Do you bill me, or should I give you my credit card details? How does this work?” I ask.
“Oh it’s already sorted,” Fitzy says, leaning in to press a kiss against my cheek. “And I have your cell number so I’ll just text you and you can let me know where you want me to bring the next batch of things for you to try.”
“How is it sorted? Are you going to send the bill to the hotel?” I ask, narrowing my eyes a little. The outfits we picked together tonight are thousands of dollars’ worth of clothes, I mean I know he knows I’m rich, but I still need to know how to pay him.
“He’s putting it on my account,” Carson says.
“What, why?” I gasp, spinning to face him.
“Because I told him to.”
“Right my darlings,” Fitzy interrupts, “I’ll leave you to it. Carrigan, it was a pleasure to meet you, I’ll see you soon.”
“Thank you, man,” Carson says, embracing Fitzy in a man hug, before the older man leaves pulling the rail of clothes behind him.
I wait for a moment, until Fitzy is out of sight before I turn on Carson. “What are you doing?”
“Come here Priss.”
“No,” I snap, crossing my arms across my chest and holding my ground. “You can’t just buy my clothes.”
“Why not?” he asks calmly, closing the distance between us, ignoring my obvious annoyance.
“Because you can’t, people don’t just buy other people a whole new wardrobe,” I say, uncrossing then re-crossing my arms, fidgeting beneath his unwavering gaze.
“I really couldn’t give a fuck what other people do. I wanted to do this, so I did,” he says, his expression intense, but calm.
“I have money,” I insist.
“I know, we all have money, more than we’ll ever need.”
“So I don’t need you to pay for my things.”
“I know that. But I’m still going to,” he says, reaching for me and pulling me to him. “The customary response to a gift is thank you.”
“Carson.”
His sigh is loud. “Priss, just say thank you, then kiss me.”
Wary, I stare at him for a long moment, trying to understand his motives, what he thinks this gift is going to get him, what game this is.
“Jesus,” he mutters, a second before he palms the back of my head and pulls my lips up to his.
Mom always taught me that every interaction with a boy had purpose, that I should use it to my advantage. A shy look here, a soft touch there. She promised me I could make them all fall in love with me, if I just learnt their weak spots. I know how to play with a guy, but always on my terms and it’s never more than a means of getting what I want.
Only all those things don’t apply to Carson, do they? The money is gone, he knows that, he helped me get out from beneath its burden, so what game is he playing?
Am I playing with him?
No.
How can I be manipulating him, when I literally have no idea what’s going on?
“Stop thinking,” Carson growls against my lips a second before he reclaims them, teasing me into losing myself to his touch like he does every time he’s near me.
Allowing myself to just give in, I enjoy him, enjoy the way his huge body makes me feel small and protected. I enjoy how he holds me tight against him, like he doesn’t want me to escape, and how when I’m in his arms I feel like it’s possible to just be me. Be who I am in this moment and not a product of my past, and that maybe, just maybe, I can forge a better future for myself.
When he pulls back, I reluctantly release my hold on him, not realizing that my fingers were clinging to him. “Thank you,” I whisper.
I feel his smile against my forehead when he presses a soft, barely there, kiss against me. “You’re welcome Priss.”
“I should
