Page 65

She makes a small, surprised sound, like she still can’t believe I’m kissing her, and then she kisses me back.

“I’ve never had anyone to spend money on,” I murmur, my thumbs stroking the velvet at her waist. “Let me do this for you.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever wear something like this.” She looks down at the dress.

“Then choose what makes you happy.” I tuck her hair behind her ear. “You can have anything you want in here. Anything at all.”

She looks at me for a moment. Then she looks around the store. Really looks, for the first time without panic, and I watch something shift in her face. The slow, cautious arrival of wanting.

“If you’re sure,” she concedes. “But I really need a department store for some basics.”

“Then we’ll go there too.” I go back to the sofa and my champagne and let her get on with it.

She takes her time. She touches things, considers things, puts things back and picks them up again. She finds a dress that makes her smile and shake her head at herself in the mirror, then holds it up and looks at it again more seriously. She asks one of the assistants something I can’t hear and listens carefully to the answer.

She’s choosing things for herself. For the first time, probably, in longer than she’d want to admit.

I watch quietly, drinking my champagne, a warm sense of satisfaction spreading through my chest.

Making Cora happy.

I have a powerful new addiction.

We leave the store with Cora in a soft green dress that she chose herself, kitten heels, and a pair of beautiful earrings. Demyan and I are carrying the many bags to the trunk as I look up and down the street. “Which one next?”

She turns to me. “Zevran, let’s go somewhere more affordable. You must have spent a small fortune in there.”

“Not nearly enough,” I tell her. “I’m spoiling you today.”

I need to teach her the new definition of affordable now that she’s my woman.

“You don’t have to—”

“But I want to.” I take her hand. “There’s a difference.”

She looks at me for a moment, as though trying to believe if something good is actually happening to her. Her face softens.

“All right. One store.”

We visit seven boutiques and two department stores. Demyan has to make several trips to the house with bags and boxes while we shop. I have never enjoyed a Tuesday more in my life.

Now Cora and I stand in the walk-in wardrobe off the master bedroom with all her purchases lined up in neat rows on the carpet. This room hasn’t been used since I bought the house three years ago. I closed the door and didn’t think about it again, because there was no one to fill it, and I didn’t need this much space for my own things.

Cora looks at the empty rails, the empty shelves, and the soft lighting, unable to find words.

“It’s yours,” I say, my voice low and indulgent as I step up behind her, wrapping my arm around her waist.

She looks up at me, her eyes glowing. “Really?”

“All of it. However you want to organize it.” I pick up the first bag. “Let’s unpack these and find homes for everything.”

We spend an hour doing it. She’s still nervous about the cost and the space she’s taking up. I can see it in the hesitant way she handles things, like I might suddenly get angry about where she’s putting them. But underneath the nerves, she’s pleased. She holds a cashmere sweater against her face and closes her eyes for a second when she thinks I’m not looking.

I smile to myself. I’m always looking.

When we’re done, she looks at the wardrobe, full of things she chose.

“Thank you,” she says, turning to me. “I had so much fun, and the clothes are beautiful.”