Page 19 of Ruthless King (Mount Trilogy 1)
The fact that Magnolia can be so glib about this situation is beyond me, but it’s another indicator that her life and mine, at least before this last week, are totally and completely different.
“There’s tissue paper. It’s black.”
“Well, flip that shit open, girl. I’m dying of suspense here.”
I fold back the paper, and beneath it is black silk fabric that slides through my fingers like water. I lift out a dress that has to cost more than my car.
“It’s a dress. Short and black. Silk, maybe?”
“Better than a body part. Much better. Bet it’s expensive too.”
I can’t imagine a man with Mount’s reputation taking the time to choose what he wants me to wear while he collects on his debt. He probably didn’t. Maybe he has a personal shopper for these situations.
I check the size. Of course it’s right. I start to ask how he’d know, but I remember that they’ve clearly been in my apartment more than once. And then I realize the name on the tag. Versace. Jesus. This thing is definitely worth more than the Honda.
“So, what else?”
“Hold on. I’m getting to it.”
I lay the dress on the coverlet and find more tissue wrapped around a sheer black lingerie set encrusted with tiny crystals that sparkle like diamond dust.
What if they are diamonds?
I remember reading about the bra that was solid diamonds, and I’ve definitely walked past windows of stores selling gorgeous lingerie, but I’ve never bothered to go inside because I could barely afford half a thong.
Seeing this, owning this, should fill me with excitement, but all I feel is burning rage and building resentment.
“I hear more tissue. What else are you finding in there?”
“Lingerie.”
“Of course. Bet it’s the good stuff.”
“It probably costs more than my rent,” I mumble as I unwrap another tissue-covered object in the corner.
“And shoes.” I lift one black crystal-encrusted stiletto and survey the icepick-like heel, and the delicate straps that will wrap up my calves.
“What kind?”
Of course she’d want to know.
“Manolo Blahnik.” I definitely never thought I’d own a pair of these either. And now I can’t even enjoy them because I’m wearing them because he has decreed it.
“Damn, girl. He went for the good stuff. I’d take that as a good sign.”
The knot in the pit of my stomach disagrees with her completely.
“Anything else?”
I lift out the other shoe to find a note at the bottom written in the same black scrawl as all the others.
* * *
A driver will collect you at 9 p.m.
* * *
I read it to Magnolia.
