The Surrender: Falling In Part 8

Scout frowned. Maybe he wanted her to leave. She was about to ask if that was the case when he said, "I'll have Dugan bring the car around. Meet me out front in ten minutes. Do not be late."

Ten minutes wasn't a whole lot of time to make it all the way to the bas.e.m.e.nt, get to her locker, change, and make it back to the front of the hotel. She needed more time, but before she could ask for it, Lucian turned and held his phone to his ear, already summoning Dugan.

Chapter 8.

Reflection Without attracting much attention, Scout kept her head low and speed walked through the lobby of Patras. A man dressed in pristine Patras livery held the heavy gla.s.s door as she stepped out of the softly lit hotel and squinted at the sunny street. Cabs lined the curb as finely dressed guests alighted to the gold-fringed red runner at the bottom of the grand marble stairs. Bra.s.s luggage carts were stacked with designer cases and garment bags, and she never felt more like a sore thumb in her life.

Scout shifted her raggedy backpack over her shoulders and looked for Lucian. He wasn't out there. Stepping as far into the shadows and out of the way as possible, she searched.

A man with a neat brimmed hat and Patras blazer spoke in rapid French to a guest. Footmen traded keys with valets, and the line of vehicles moved on. A shiny black limousine took up a large portion of the shoulder as a chauffeur aptly stood and awaited his pa.s.sengers.

The sun was drifting behind the high skysc.r.a.pers. A bl.u.s.tery wind slithered over the pathways, mingling in and out of people pa.s.sing by, and she shivered, fisting her hands deep within the front pocket of her hooded sweatshirt. The denim of her jeans had long ago worn thin and didn't do much to shield against the gusty November chill.

The chauffeur twisted as the sleek black window of the limousine lowered half an inch. He listened then turned. His gaze landed on her and his bushy eyebrows jumped. His mouth remained tight beneath the handlebars of his mustache. Straightening his shoulders, he walked in her direction.

Her back stiffened. Lucian would be furious if she wasn't waiting for him when he got here. If this man was approaching to chase her away, he had an argument coming. She had every right to be here. She'd be interested to see what he had to say when he learned she was waiting for the owner of Patras, Lucian Patras himself.

Squaring her shoulders Scout opened her mouth, prepared to tell him she wasn't moving, when he surprised her by saying, "Ms. Keats?"

She fumbled. "Y-yes?"

"Mr. Patras is right this way. If you'll follow me?"

Her lip trembled as she got hold of her bearings and followed the chauffeur. He was quite an enormous man up close. Returning to his position beside the shiny black door of the limo, he opened it with a gentle click as she stepped nearer. The interior was low and dark. Scout bent to peek inside.

Lucian sat, a look of exasperation on his face, amber drink in his hand. He glanced at his watch dramatically and back at her and sighed. She quickly scurried into the car.

The soft leather seats cushioned her inelegant landing and she scooted in as the door closed with a quiet snick behind her. Blue lights accented small wooden compartments and a crystal decanter held securely on a small counter.

"Drink?"

The car pulled away from the curb and she lurched back in her seat, not used to being in cars. She looked at Lucian. "No, thank you. I don't drink."

He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing more on the subject. They drove a few blocks in silence. Lucian's gaze raked over her, scrutinizing her attire. She tried not to fidget, but failed.

The clink of ice in his now empty gla.s.s drew her attention. "I can see we'll have our work cut out for us."

Scout's spine stiffened. She didn't appreciate his comment. If he didn't want such an undertaking he should've asked someone else for their "company." She sighed. This wasn't how she imagined this going. He'd done nothing he hadn't said he planned to do. It was her own wavering thoughts that were making her irritable and jumpy. She needed to jump into this thing with both feet or back out now.

"Lucian, I'm sorry about earlier. I've been up since three a.m. and I'm not at my best."

He frowned. "If you were tired you should've told me. This could've waited."

She had been tired, exhausted really, but since stepping into the limo her adrenaline kicked in. "I'm okay now. I must've gotten a second wind."

He studied her face a moment then said, "I expect you to be at your best, Evelyn. If you require eight hours' sleep, take it. If you need ten, then make sure you get them."

His words were bossy and rude, but there was also a bit of concern beneath his censure. Underneath all of the gruff and growl, she suspected there was a soft little puppy. No, not a puppy, more like a bear cub or baby lion. She hid her smile.

They arrived in a section of the city she had never visited before. "Is this still Folsom?"

"Yes, the upper west side."

Scout looked out the tinted window as the lavish stores and boutiques rolled by. Shoppers patronized the ritzy strip in high heels and designer suits. Glancing down at her tattered clothing and worn through sneakers, she frowned.

The limousine pulled to a stop outside of a pristine store she couldn't read the name of. She swallowed as a lump formed in her stomach. Lucian placed his gla.s.s aside and flattened the front of his suit jacket. He'd forgone the casual air she'd grown used to seeing him in while in the comfort of his penthouse. Scout liked that Lucian better.

Dugan came around and opened the pa.s.senger door. She couldn't move. Well-dressed patrons bustled past her vantage with dogs dressed finer than her. Her breath was coming too fast and she was going to be sick.

"Evelyn? We're here."

She looked at Lucian and he frowned. He leaned over her lap and said to Dugan, "Give us a minute." He then pulled the door closed, submerging the heated car in silence.

"What's the matter, Evelyn?"

"When you said shopping for personal items I thought you meant we'd hit a drugstore or something."

He pressed his lips together and, again, took visual inventory of her clothing. His fingers pinched a loose flap of her bag distastefully, rubbing together as if he touched something unsavory.

"You can't expect what you're wearing to be appropriate for the places we'll visit. You need clothes."

"But you said the dinner wasn't until tomorrow."

"That's right, we have a function tomorrow, but we still need to eat tonight. I have no problem with lunch or breakfast in the penthouse, but dining out is something I enjoy. What difference is there if we purchase some items tonight or tomorrow? Either way, you need an entirely new wardrobe."

He was right, of course. Dressed the way she was, Scout was an embarra.s.sment to a man like him. She looked out the window. But did they have to shop here? She'd be uncomfortable at a department store. This was beyond sw.a.n.k.

"Come on," he said, nudging her leg and smiling. "Let me treat you. Clothing is armor. I prefer you feisty and I'm prepared to spend a great deal of money on you in order to have you that way. Let's go buy some courage."

"People will stare at me."

"You're beautiful, Evelyn. People will stare at you no matter what you wear."

His words were sweet and warmed her heart, chasing away some of her trepidation, but not all of it. She sighed, resigned, and he tapped on the ceiling. The door opened and Dugan took her arm as she climbed onto the sidewalk.

Scout shivered and Lucian stepped out beside her. "Where's your coat?" he asked, again frowning.

"I don't have one."

Her words seemed to render him momentarily speechless. He didn't comment, merely nodded and headed toward their first courage outlet.

A woman with hair the color of silken wheat greeted them. Her nails were long and painted white at the tips. She carefully ignored Scout's presence and purred up at Lucian. Scout's brow pinched and she decided not to like her right off the bat.

"Mr. Patras!" she cooed. "What a pleasure to have your company today. Is there something particular I can show you?"

Scout curled her lip at the woman's ridiculous advance. Lucian typed something into his phone. Without even looking at the woman he said, "Evelyn here requires an entirely new wardrobe. Do you think you can help her with that, Simone?"

The woman pouted. "Sonia."

Lucian tucked his phone back in his pocket and looked at her in confusion. "Excuse me?"

"My name's Sonia, sir."

"Of course." He nodded a halfhearted apology and came to Scout's side. Slipping his hand around hers, lending some of his power and strength to her, he squeezed her fingers and smiled, sending her a sidelong glance.

Did he know the attendant's name? Was he f.u.c.king with her? Scout's lips twitched as she hid her smile. She squeezed his hand back. It was the first time he made her feel with him rather than against him or below him.

They were taken to the back of the store. Dugan arrived with Lucian's laptop and the ladies of the boutique brought him coffee and a table. He soon had himself his own little squatter office. He worked as one woman after another presented her with beautiful garments and accessories.

Lucian might have been otherwise occupied, but he always had a bead on what was happening around him. All Scout had to do was look in his direction and she'd find his gaze on her. He'd offer a slight nod or a shake of his head, and the women of the boutique would either discard or hang the garment he was rating. She found it amusing that a piece of clothing the women would rave about one moment could become a travesty of fashion in the next if it was something Lucian didn't favor.

Scout was soon bustled into a large room with mirrored walls and a b.u.t.ton-upholstered round ottoman that reminded her of the inside of a genie bottle. Sonia began to tug at her clothes and she backed away. The attendant smiled, but some of the sincerity she recalled from when they were on the floor had left her eyes.

"You have to undress if you plan to try on clothes, honey."

Scout scowled at her patronizing tone. "I've been undressing myself since I was a child. I'd like some privacy."

The sn.o.bby attendant pursed her lips and shrugged. She backed out of the dressing room and left Scout there with a variety of outfits.

Quickly kicking off her shoes, she stuffed her oversized wool socks into them. Sliding out of her jeans, she folded them. Recalling the selection of undergarments Lucian had approved, Scout grimaced at her black cotton panties.

Her fingers reached under her sweatshirt and unlatched the clasp of her money belt and carefully stuffed it in the leg of her jeans. Taking a deep breath, she pulled her sweatshirt over her head and added it to the pile. As she turned to select her first outfit she gasped and jerked to a stop.

There, staring right back at her was her reflection. She hadn't seen herself so completely naked since . . . well, the last time she saw herself like this her body was very, very different.

Her lips parted and she blinked. Her hair was still down, forming a dark curtain of waves to her narrow hips. They barely swelled beneath her nipped-in waist. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were full, the tips darker than the rest of her skin, and pointed.

A half smile tickled her lips. She was quite pretty like this. She scrutinized her legs. They lacked any of the grace she noticed in the women's legs in the boutique. Scout recalled the beautiful Dr. Sheffield. Trying to mimic her grace, she awkwardly crossed one foot over the other. Her nose wrinkled. Her knees were k.n.o.bby and juvenile. She stood on her toes. That helped.

When her gaze traveled back up to her face, she deflated. Her flesh-colored lips were lost on her plain skin. Her nose was small and unremarkable. Her eyes had always been her most unique quality. They were more silver than blue and had a way of getting lost against the whites of her eyes. Dark sapphire rims centered them and kept her appearance on the right side of that fine line between captivating and bizarre. Her lashes were long, but not as thick as Lucian's.

Her fingers gently nudged the loose skin beneath her eyes. It was deep purple and slightly bruised. She looked exhausted. Her cheeks were a little gaunt and she suddenly could see the slight resemblance between herself and Pearl. Scout averted her gaze, not wanting to look anymore. How had she gone from seeing someone beautiful moments ago, to hating the ugly person before her now?

There was a loud knock.

"Evelyn? What's taking so long?" Lucian's deep voice startled her.

She jumped. "J-Just a minute."

Her hands quickly grabbed the first item she found and yanked it off the hanger. It was a dress, or something . . . She slipped it over her head and tugged the material around her behind. Perhaps it was a handkerchief. Yanking up the top, it covered her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, but she frowned when half of her curves were still hanging out.

Lucian knocked again. "Evelyn."

She snapped her lips and scowled at the door. "I said I need a minute. It's too small."

The door suddenly opened and she backed up. Her arms covered the ridiculously small sc.r.a.p of fabric attempting to be clothing as Lucian stepped in. The mirrored walls created a hundred Lucians. Too many Lucians.

"What're you doing? You can't come in here!"

He tilted his head and rolled his eyes, telling her exactly how ludicrous he found her statement. "Let me see."

She shook her head. "It doesn't fit. I look ridiculous." Her protests only made him step into her personal s.p.a.ce and force her arms to her side. He stilled.

"See . . ." she mumbled.

He stepped back, his eyes growing even darker. His gaze wandered over her like fingers. His Adam's apple bobbed under the stubble covering his throat as he swallowed. "You look . . ." His voice was a hoa.r.s.e whisper. "I like it."

"Lucian . . . It doesn't fit."

"We'll take it. I want one in every color."

Her palms slapped into her thighs. "It doesn't even make sense. There're no pockets to hold my stuff. It's November. I'll freeze."

"Then you'll wear it in spring."

"I won't be here in spring."

His head jerked and his eyes narrowed. They stared at each other for a long moment, each seemingly challenging the other, but about what she wasn't sure.

"Every color, Evelyn. Try on the next outfit." He turned and left the genie bottle, taking all ninety-nine other Lucians with him.

Scout groaned. Would she ever get her way again?

Chapter 9.

Gla.s.s Slippers and Queens Scout's weight shifted from foot to foot as she waited for Lucian beside the counter of the boutique. A man in a Patras blazer arrived and quickly carried boxes out to a delivery truck intended for the hotel. It was all too much.

Lucian had spent enough money in the past few hours that could probably feed the shelter's homeless for a year. Scout understood he was filthy rich, but seeing him in action was something altogether different. This was beyond rich. This was pure wealth.

Lucian had requested she wear one of the more casual outfits home. It was a pair of skintight midnight blue jeans and a loose gossamer blouse that hung open at the collar and gathered around her waist with a delicate little beaded belt. On her feet she wore very pointy high-heeled shoes that were impossible to walk in. They reminded her more of weapons than footwear.

Scout had to turn away when Lucian signed the receipt. She didn't want to see such excess wasted on her. She'd sell it all, she vowed. Sell it and buy enough food to feed everyone at the tracks for months.

Thinking of the tracks made her think of Pearl. She hoped her mother was better today than she'd been the day before. Had she found the food she left her?

A warm wool camel-colored trench coat was draped over her shoulders. Lucian took her arm and led her back to the limo. With tiny ticking feet like a bird, she tiptoed beside him in the silly shoes. Stepping close to the limo, she stilled with the oddest sense she was forgetting something.