Thirty Days: Part One (20 page)

Why is this so funny to him?

“Frick.”

“Come on.” He grins, leading me by hand to God knows where. “Nothing’s changed in all this time.”

“Pardon.”

“Never mind.” His smiling expression turns serious.

After all what time?

The man at the lost luggage and baggage section is a complete arse. Barry, the scrawny dweeb, is absolutely no help whatsoever. That man could not have displayed his boredom and distaste for his job any more if he’d tried.

“What is your contact number? Fill out this form and sign here,” he says miserably.

Once I’ve completed the formalities, I’m informed a call will be made to arrange delivery when the luggage has been located. Every part of me wants to tear him a new one, but I manage to stay calm long enough to exit the airport with only my carryon flung over my shoulder.

“Well, that was fun, wasn’t it?” Marcus taunts.

“Shut up.”

“Looks like we need to go shopping before we check in.” Glancing at a gold watch secured around his wrist, he announces, “Plenty of time.”

“It’s after eight p.m. Nothing will be open.”

“We’re in Sydney…anything can be opened.”

A black Porsche Cayenne SUV stops in front of us as we approach the curb. The only reason I know the type and model of this car is because all these words are on the badges attached to it. Even though my dad was a huge car nut, I’ve never taken to it. As long as it has four wheels, a running engine and can get you from point A to point B, then that’s good enough for me. Marcus, on the other hand, stares at this particular vehicle like he’s being shown his first born child for the very first time. I guess this is just another thing we don’t have in common. My dad, on the other hand, would have fallen head over heels in love with this gorgeous car.

A single finger streaks its way over the black bonnet. His finger, and the smile he’s displaying says, ‘I’ve missed you.’

“Good evening, Mr. Klein, Miss McMillian. Sorry for the delay.” A young and solid man stands in front of me dressed in a tailored black suit.

“It’s okay, Grady,” Marcus replies, facing him before passing over his carryon. “We were delayed ourselves. Miss McMillian’s luggage has been misplaced in transit.” He smiles, and I wish to wipe that toothy grin from his face. “We will need to go to The Strand Arcade for some essentials. Please organise that immediately.”

“Yes, sir. Right away.”

Grady takes two large strides before opening the back door closest to the footpath, his golden eyes looking at me with kindness. “Miss McMillian,” he says before sliding the strap of my carryon from my shoulder and placing it over his. “May I assist you?”

“Please.”

“In you go, watch your head.”

Glancing out the driver’s side window, I see the two of them talking.
Why can’t I read lips?
I’m unable to make out a single word they’re saying, but Marcus seems completely relaxed in this man’s presence.
Are they friends?

“You ready?” Marcus mutters as he enters the car, pulling the seatbelt over his chest.

“Yes.”

“Let’s shop.” The corners of his lips arch, pleased. He must love shopping.

We stop in front of what appears to be an old heritage building—a rustic brown brick, maybe five stories high. It’s in darkness apart from a few window lights that highlight clothing displays.

“It’s closed,” I say, irritated.

“So it seems.”

“No, it doesn’t seem…it is.”

“We’ll see,” Marcus states smugly just before Grady opens the door.

“Miss McMillian.” Grady’s light blond hair rustles with the breeze as he holds out his hand for me.

“Thank you.”

“Let’s go,” Marcus interrupts excitedly, wrapping his fingers around mine and leading me towards the building.

What do you know that I don’t?
The building is bloody lifeless. There are no people anywhere.
Okay, Mr. Magician,
w
hy are we here?

Stopping about a metre from what I assume is a closed, locked, and dead bolted door, Marcus turns to face me.

“Before we go in, there’s a few things that must be discussed.”

“Umm. In case you haven’t noticed, the centre is closed.”

“Thank you for your observation, Miss McMillian, but if you could just stay quiet for a moment, I need to run through a few points with you.”

“Okay. But just so you know, I’d like to point out you are insane.” This man is delusional and impossible.

“Point noted.” He smiles as his beautiful whites sparkle under a single light. “The company will be paying for the items you will need. You’re not to look at price tags. You’re to get what will be required and respectable for work, and for evenings. I will help, if you’d like.”

“My uniforms are in my suitcase, and I doubt that this closed”—I emphasise the word closed—“shopping outlet would stock them. I’m sure the office here has my size in uniforms so—”

“They do not have your size or uniforms for you. We will get you some business attire.”

I shake my head.

“The second thing is, I’ve never done this for anyone, ever. I just want you to know that.”

“Done what exactly?”

“You’ll see.”

We walk the last remaining steps, still hand in hand to the doorway and just as we reach the entry, the door magically opens.
Who opened it?

Marcus turns. His smile beams, and I’m instantly giddy.

How did he do that?

“Mr. Klein, Miss McMillian, welcome.” A lady in the nicest figure-hugging red dress I’ve ever seen waves her hand in invitation of entry.

I hear the lock turn over as soon as we’re inside.
How did she know my name?

“Katherine.” Marcus extends his neck, pecking her lightly on the cheek.

“Marcus. Lovely to see you as always. How can we help you this evening?”

“We’ve had a lost luggage situation. Abigail needs a week’s worth of clothing, please, the works.”

“Of course.” A single light is turned on above us. Katherine walks a circle around me, looking me up and down. “Beautiful figure,” she compliments.

“I agree,” Marcus instantly replies.

What the actual fuck?

Katherine stops suddenly in front of me. I can’t help but admire her perfect rosy blushed cheeks, red stained lips, and long jet black hair that falls freely over her shoulders. She is beautiful and stylish. Everything I’m not.

“This will be easy!” she exclaims. “Miss McMillian—”

“Just Abi or Abigail.”

“Abigail.” She continues, “Size six?”

“Umm. I’m a size eight in most things.”

“I see. Follow me.”

“What?”

“Close your mouth. You’re not a fly catcher. Follow, please.”

I search for Marcus, who is standing a short distance with a look so puzzling, it causes my eyes to narrow in confusion.

“Abigail, please follow Katherine.” He winks.

Again, what the actual fuck?

Hesitantly, my legs begin moving one foot in front of the other, following Katherine’s lead. She must be moving at a slow pace because even with the newborn calf walk I suddenly sport, I’m by her side quickly. Light upon light turns on and then there is music. A unique musical introduction has me listening intently
. Coldplay,
Hymn for the Weekend
. A shiver courses down my spine because the selection of music seems almost deliberate.
Eerie
. My stomach begins fluttering with the wings of hundreds of butterflies as I continue on. How can I be this excited and yet filled with so much unease at the same time? The sound of footsteps behind me causes me to stop instantly. Turning slowly, I’m met with dark eyes looking on with an air of caution.

“Are you coming, too?” I’m nervous.

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss this.” His lip curls upwards. He’s delightfully happy. “Continue, Abigail.”

Doors begin to part, and this once silent complex becomes alive with busy people. I feel like Julia Roberts in the movie
Pretty Woman
. Although I’m not a hooker. Or maybe I am. After all, I did sleep with Marcus and now he has opened a shopping outlet after hours for me.
Oh crap. Am I expected to be his unpaid sex worker?
I swallow heavily as we enter a boutique and, holy shit, it’s exquisite. The materials of the garments are soft against my touch. My fingers can’t help caressing each piece while passing.

“Everything is beyond beautiful, sophisticated,” I comment, bewildered.

Katherine doesn’t bat an eyelid as she ushers me to a large change room. “In here, please. Try the green dress first.”

There are many outfits hanging in wait.

This is too weird.
“Green dress?”

“Yes.”

The dress she speaks of is knee-length and fitted with capped sleeves.
Elegant
. It hangs alone on a hook, not bunched with others.

“Would you mind doing the zip up for me?” My eyes close slightly. I’m embarrassed. The door opens and warm hands make contact with my skin. Hands too big to be those belonging to Katherine. My heart leaps into my throat.

“No problem,” his deep voice says, attentively lifting the zipper.

My eyes flutter open to our reflection in the mirror.

“Wow,” Marcus mouths before his head dips into my neck that tilts, allowing him access. I watch as his eyes close and his nose runs along my skin. “You look beautiful,” he says star-struck before stepping away. I can’t answer, and he leaves.

Sudden pulsating between my legs becomes almost too intense to handle and, as I look back into the mirror, I can see how flushed I’ve become. This man does things to me that no man has ever done. It’s scary, yet exhilarating, and I don’t know how I’m going to survive this week with my underwear intact with him around. Thank God we’ll have separate rooms, hopefully on different floors. Different hotels would be even better.

“Well, are you going to show us?” Katherine enquires.

“Umm. Okay.”

“Put the black heels on with it first.”

“Black heels?”

“Yes, they are in the shoe box on the seat.”

“Yep. Okay, found them.”

Opening the door, I’m scared, mainly because I peaked at the price tag and this one dress alone costs nearly six hundred dollars. As beautiful as it is, it will remain on the shelf for someone else to purchase.

“Ta-da…hey, where are you?” I say when nobody is there.

“In here,” Katherine calls, and I follow the direction of her voice into the store. Marcus looks relaxed, sunken into a sofa, one I hadn’t even noticed was there. He has his arms outstretched along the top. Katherine stands like a trophy behind him.

“Well, that is stunning, Abigail.” She smiles. “What do you think, Marcus?”

“Breathtaking.”

“That green is brilliant against her eyes. I knew it was perfect when I saw her. Grady didn’t exaggerate on how unique her eyes were.”

“Umm. What?” Shock has my mouth go slack.

“Never mind. Run along, Abigail, we have plenty to get through before you leave.”

“I can’t have this dress.” My head shakes. “It’s beautiful, but way too expensive. Can we maybe look at something a bit cheaper?”

Katherine’s mouth drops open, and her head rears back as if I’d just informed her that I’d been diagnosed with the black plague. “Cheaper. This dress was made for you,” she scolds.

Marcus stands, signalling for me to come closer.

I do.

“Katherine, give us a minute,” he commands, and she lets out a small huff before making herself scarce.

Marcus wraps his arms around my waist, leaving a minuscule gap between us. “What did I say about not looking at price tags?”

My head drops, but is quickly lifted by Marcus, who is holding my chin. He gazes with all seriousness into my eyes.

“It’s too much. I seriously do not need clothing this expensive. Please, let’s just go somewhere cheaper.”

“I don’t care how much the dress is. I told you no looking at price tags. I should put you over my knee for the humiliation you continue to cause me.”

“Pardon.”

“You heard me. That dress, on that arse, is perfect. That dress on those breasts makes me hard. You worrying about the cost makes me want to throw you over my knee and caress your arse before smacking it hard with my hand.”

Instantly, I begin to pant as I clasp my bottom lip between my teeth.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he says, sexy as hell before his finger removes the hard bite hold I have on my lip.

“No,” I reply breathlessly.

He chuckles. “Be a good girl and go try on something else before you make me mad. You’re getting this dress and that’s that. Do not look at another price tag, understand?”

“Umm. Okay.”
He’s so bossy.