The boutique was an altar of glass and cold, blinding light. It was a cathedral of silk and sequins, where every price tag whispered a language of privilege that Serapina simply didn't speak.
She stood at the threshold, her sneakers feeling painfully heavy against the polished marble floor.
" What are we doing here?" her voice barely a breathe.
"You will find out." Damon's tone was devoid of negotiation.
Seraphina hugged her arms around herself, a futile shield against the opulence radiating from within. "I can't afford anything here, Damon. Not in a lifetime."
"You're not paying."
"That's exactly the problem." She looked up at him, her eyes searching his for a flicker of humanity, for a reason why a man like him would waste a second on a girl like her.
Damon didn't argue. He didn't offer a hollow reassurance. He simply reached out and placed a large, firm hand at the lower part of her back. The touch was possessive, guiding her forward.
