Theirs to Corrupt (Titans Captivated #5)

Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

Link

Oh Tessa.

You need to stop fighting me.

This.

Us.

My stubborn wife-to-be and I are on the sidewalk in front of Rêve de Mode, one of the city’s most exclusive boutiques.

Her chin is angled mutinously, and she’s refusing to step inside.

The sun relentlessly beats down on us, and I worry because we’re in public, exposed, despite the fact Mira is standing just behind Tessa.

Torin is parked illegally, parallel to the curb, and the back door to the vehicle still stands open. Pax is right there, ready to toss our future wife inside if we are forced to make a quick, strategic exit.

“You need clothes,” I point out reasonably as I fight off my impatience with her and the situation. What the hell kind of woman doesn’t want to go shopping on my credit card?

One with her kind of pride, evidently.

The fact she’s so unlike anyone else I’ve been involved with is one of the reasons I want her. Yet right now, that’s the most confounding thing about her.

“I have a drawer full of things at my apartment.”

I bite back my temper. “You’ve agreed to be my wife, Tessa.”

“I didn’t agree to be spoiled and pampered.”

Yes. You damn well did. “We’ll be going out for meals, and you’ll be expected to act as my hostess.” And I’d noticed the way she’d tugged on the hem of her shirt, then glanced down, maybe to hide the way her cheeks flushed when we walked into Maestro’s.

Now, though, her eyes flash with fire as she insists, “I’m sure we can find some place that resells designer brands, if a label matters to you.”

I’m about to lose what little hold I still have over my patience. “You are not wearing discards.”

A furious frown knits between her eyes. “If that’s the way you see it, maybe we should rethink this whole arrangement since I’m not good enough for you, Mr. Merritt.”

Confounding, annoying…

Pax clears his throat. “What Link means is that time is of the essence. We don’t have time to run all over the city. In the future, you’re welcome to shop anywhere you want.”

The fuck-all she can. My wife will wear clothing that is beautiful and appropriate for her. I scowl at Pax.

But both of them ignore me completely.

“Once you’re finished here, would you like to go to your apartment to pick up your necessities?” Pax offers.

The hell?

She looks at him. “Really? You’ll take me?”

“I will.”

Because his question deflected Tessa’s attention and that suits me fine, I don’t object.

“I would like that.”

Once more, Pax is her hero, and I’m the villain. Irritated, I drum my fingers on the side of my leg.

Then she looks at me, and her half-smile fades as she pushes back strands of her hair. “I’ll agree to get the bare necessities. We’ll keep a tab, and I’ll pay you back.”

I open my mouth to object, but Pax shakes his head sharply and tells her, “I’m sure you can come to some sort of arrangement.”

He’s good at soothing her out of her arguments.

I shove aside the voice inside me that tells me I could learn a thing or two from him.

At my age, I have zero desire to change who I am.

Tessa needs to stop challenging me.

I win my battles. Always.

“Shall we?” I invite.

Mira opens the boutique’s heavy glass door.

Tessa hesitates for a fraction of a second before stepping inside. I follow closely, as does Mira. The security agent takes her place near the door, nearby, but giving us privacy.

Pax and Torin remain outside.

The store’s interior is beautiful, with racks of clothing artfully displayed, and a soft glow refracting from the crystal chandeliers.

“Link!” Amelia, the owner, joins us. “So wonderful to see you.”

Tessa’s spine stiffens slightly, and she frowns. Wondering about my history here?

“Amelia. Always a pleasure.” Wanting any doubts Tessa is feeling to vanish, I gently place my fingertips at the base of her spine. “This is Tessa. My future bride.”

Her breath catches.

“Congratulations!” Amelia’s happiness for us is real. “You must be delighted.”

When Tessa doesn’t respond, I answer for both of us. “We are.”

She continues to remain quiet. At least she hasn’t contradicted me. I’ll take that win.

“We’re eloping,” I explain to Amelia. “So she needs a wardrobe for Las Vegas. Anything you can think of. Skirts. Slacks. Leisure outfits. Handbag. Shoes.”

Tessa’s eyes widen, and she turns to me. “We agreed to a few essentials,” she protests, her voice low but firm.

“It’s nothing more,” I insist, keeping my tone light. “And as Pax said, time is of the essence. We don’t have time to go shopping anywhere else.”

Amelia, ever the professional, pretends not to notice the tension. “We’ll get started with some basics, shall we? Link, you’re welcome to make yourself comfortable. Tessa, may I offer you a glass of champagne while we browse?”

“Thanks. But no.” She’s polite, but her shoulders are held back tight.

Instead of taking a seat, I walk over to one of the nearby racks and select a sleek black dress that will stretch to hug her the way I’d like to. Perfect for dinner in Vegas. “This is a good start,” I suggest, holding it up.

“Excellent choice,” Amelia says as she takes the hanger from me and then gives it to an employee with an instruction to get a fitting room started for Tessa.

My future bride tips her head to one side. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

“Not at all. As you heard, my schedule has been cleared for the afternoon.” When she clenches her jaw, I grin. “I’m at your disposal.”

“I think we can manage this without you.”

Instead of arguing, I smile and take a page out of Pax’s playbook. “Mmm,” I respond noncommittally.

“Let’s begin over here,” Amelia says, directing Tessa’s attention toward the back of the store.

I select an emerald-green silk blouse that I think will suit her, and I give that to the clerk, along with a couple of skirts.

A full twenty minutes later, Amelia whisks Tessa to her fitting room. I settle into one of the leather armchairs near a raised dais surrounded by mirrors where she can model the items.

“I’d like to see everything,” I call out, steepling my fingers as I lean back to wait.

Maybe it’s only my imagination, but I think I hear her stamp her foot from behind the closed door. I grin.

A few minutes later, she emerges in a sundress that leaves her arms and shoulders bare and ends just above her ankles. “Beautiful,” I approve.

“I don’t know.” She wrinkles her nose as she studies herself from every angle. “We don’t have a lot of summer left.”

I shrug. “You will be glad you have it in the Las Vegas heat. And we’ll have plenty of warm weather for you to wear it again.”

“But…”

I wait.

“Surely I won’t be going out all that often.”

“Not even for coffee?”

She blinks, as if she hasn’t considered all the potential changes to her life going forward.

“I usually wear leggings when I run errands.”

“How about when you join me for lunch?” When she doesn’t have a quick response, I tell Amelia, “We’ll take it.”

Tessa opens her mouth to argue, but she says nothing.

The next dress is more practical, shorter, suitable for business, professional, and social gatherings. One of Amelia’s picks, if I recall.

“Great choice,” I tell her. Then I ask Amelia, “Do you also have it in other colors?”

“Royal blue,” she says.

“I like this color,” Tessa protests.

“So do I.” I nod. “We want both.”

“Both?” Tessa echoes.

“You’ve got good taste,” I say simply. “The fit is flattering, and you like it. You should have it in every color.”

She shakes her head. “You’re impossible.”

Turns out, I enjoy spoiling her.

A few minutes later, Tessa appears again, in a tailored blazer and slim-cut trousers, along with the green blouse I chose.

She takes my breath away.

In this suit, she’s a force to be reckoned with.

I can’t wait to have her by my side.

“A couple more shirts and sweaters will make this outfit more versatile,” Amelia says. “Stay there for a moment.”

“Link, really. We have more than enough now.” With a concerned frown, she checks the price tag of the jacket.

“Wait and see what Amelia suggests. She might be able to pull together a number of different outfits with only a couple more pieces.” This may be the first time someone has taken Tessa shopping with no budget in mind. But it’s also the first time I’ve entered a shop with a woman who has glanced at the cost of something.

Amelia returns with several tops, another skirt, a second pair of trousers, and one more blazer. “You’ve got at least a dozen outfits here by mixing and matching,” she says. “Add some accessories, shoes, and boots, and you can go from summer to winter.”

I nod in agreement, but Tessa shakes her head. “There’s no way I need this much stuff.”

“If we don’t take her advice, we’ll need to come back next season.” I keep my voice reasonable.

“Which is fine,” Amelia agrees. “We’re constantly getting in new stock. And we’ll have a trunk show in October where we highlight our winter collection. We’ll even have holiday dresses.”

“No.” Tessa’s protest is immediate. “This is fine.”

With a resigned sigh, she returns to try on more pieces.

I veto some because they are too loose on her, and a couple I request in a smaller size.

“You know,” Amelia says, “I could use you as a model for the trunk show. You’ve got the look.”

Tessa pales, and her eyes grow wide.

She’s so accustomed to being in hiding that the thought must terrify her.

At some point, I hope she has the confidence to accept that kind of compliment.

“Now the evening wear,” I prompt.

Amelia instructs one of her helpers to bring in several pairs of shoes.

Just then, another employee who has been ringing out a customer at the cash register comes over and speaks quietly to Amelia who gives us a quick apology. “I’ll be right back, I promise.”

A few minutes later, Tessa is still in the dressing room.

Curious, I stand and wander over to the door and knock. “Everything okay?”

She takes a long time to answer. When she does, there’s reluctance in her tone. “I’m struggling with this zipper.”

“Allow me,” I offer.

“Uhm…is Amelia still busy?”

Even if she wasn’t, I’d lie. “Yes.”

For a few moments, there’s no response.

She turns the knob and cracks the door open a fraction of an inch.

“Your modesty is safe with me.” Another lie. This one is so blatant that it almost stuck in my throat.

There’s nothing more I want than to corrupt her entirely.

“Fine.” With that, she vanishes from view.

Realizing I won’t get an invitation, I enter the small room.

She’s standing in the middle of the space, her back to me.

Does she believe that I find the creamy expanse of her back any less tempting than the front of her?

I step closer, and my fingers brush her spine as I grasp the zipper.

The contact sends a visible shiver through her, and her breath catches. Slowly, deliberately, I lean in closer to ease the small tab up, savoring the moment.

I’m close, so close, inhaling her feminine scent.

Innocence, wrapped in vanilla, and layered with amber. Different from what I’m used to, but even more intoxicating. From the soap in her bathroom? If so, I’ll have the housekeeper order a case of the stuff.

As I finish, my nose nearly brushes against her hair.

Instinct urges me to bury my face in the crook of her neck and breathe her in more deeply.

But I’m already too close to losing my control when it comes to her.

Having her beneath my roof, so near…

Determinedly I call on my restraint and instead twirl a tendril of her hair around my finger.

Our gazes meet in the mirror.

Her eyes are wide, her lips parted a little, and her chest rises and falls with her rapid breaths.

I’m struck by the image we make together, her delicate frame dwarfed by my larger one, the contrast between us stark and appealing.

She can fight me all she wants, but she recognizes this spark between us. My Tessa is as attracted to me as I am to her.

“Will it be so bad?” I ask softly, my breath against the beautiful shell of her ear. “Being my bride?” Then I can’t resist any longer. I gently kiss that vulnerable spot where her neck meets her shoulder. “Being mine?”