Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58353 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58353 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
I screw my face up. "I considered it, but it felt worse than just crashing in the room you already paid for. Here's the thing, Marco. I might not have a job or cash but I do have pride." I take a huge bite of my crepe, talking through a full mouth. "Iff waff to payyff youff baff."
"You what?"
Swallowing, I wipe my lips. "I want to pay you back. Every cent you spend, I've been tracking. What I can, anyway. Gelato, crepes, those were easy. I have no idea what you spent to buy me these." I gesture at my outfit.
Marco perks up. "That reminds me." Finishing his crepe, he stands, tossing he wrapper in a garbage can. I copy him, wondering what's gotten into his head. "Come on. This way."
"Where are we off to now?"
"You'll see," he chuckles, enjoying his secret.
I step inside the classy boutique; music is playing softly in the background, and the air is heavy with a perfumed scent. The room is filled with racks upon racks of long, flowing dresses, loose pants, classy blouses, and more shoes than I can count.
My eyes widen in awe as I take in the beautiful pieces of clothing around me.
"Wow," I breathe out. "This is amazing." I would never have expected this abundance of gorgeous apparel from the modest entryway.
"I thought you might like it," Marco says, a smile on his lips. "You need more clothing if you're going to be here with me for a week."
I glance at the nearest dress, run my hands down the soft fabric, untilI find the tag dangling from the bottom of a billowy sleeve. My eyes bulge at the price. "544 euros? Isn't that almost 600 dollars?"
"Correct. You're learning lots about Italy already, Filia."
"Marco! Don't joke, these prices are insane! I can't own a dress that costs more than half my rent!"
"Of course not," he agrees solemnly. I let out a relieved breath. "You'll need four or five."
The wind is pulled out of me. I slump on the spot. There's a clicking sound––tall heels, and I see a beautiful, model-esque woman weave her way towards us through the racks.
"Ciao!" she gushes. "What are we buying today?"
"Nothing," I say.
"Whatever she wants," he says over me.
The woman smiles brightly, her eyes scanning me up and down. "Well, we have some beautiful pieces in the new collection. Let me show you." She takes my arm and leads me to a rack filled with flowy summer dresses in pastel colors. I can feel Marco's eyes on me as the woman pulls out a dress and holds it up to me.
"This would look stunning on you," she says, her eyes glinting with excitement.
I hesitate, looking at the price tag. I can't let Marco spend so much money on me. "I don't know," I say, my voice wavering.
"It's settled," Marco says firmly. "She'll take it."
A pang of guilt burns in my chest as the woman leads me to a fitting room. I try on the dress, admiring the way it hugs my curves and flows gracefully around my legs. It's beautiful, but I can't help feeling like I don't deserve it.
"This one's my favorite," Marco says, pulling back the curtain to the changing room without hesitation. And running his eyes over my body, lingering where the thin fabric drapes over the curve of my ass.. His hands are deep in his pockets, as if he's doing all he can to resist touching me. The idea that I'm threatening his self control thrills me.
For a moment I think of pulling him in here with me, shutting the curtain behind us and showing him just how much I appreciate his kind gesture. But then I stop. I didn’t want to take anything from him I couldn't pay back and there’s no way I can afford this dress, or the handful of others the shop assistant is laying out on a settee behind him.
"I can't let you spend so much money on me," I say, looking down at the dress.
"You're not letting me do anything," he replies, his voice firm. "I want to do this for you."
I bite my lip, feeling guilty. "I just...I don't want you to think that I'm taking advantage of you."
"You're not," he says, his voice softening. "I want to help you. And I can afford it. It makes me happy. Don’t you want to make me happy?"
I nod, feeling grateful for his generosity. "Thank you," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
He smiles, his eyes scanning my body. "You look beautiful," he says, his voice low and husky. "I'm tempted to take you back to the hotel and show you just how beautiful you look."
I can feel my cheeks burning at his words. "Marco," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
He steps closer, his breath hot against my ear. "Is that a yes?"