14. Montana

14

Montana

I stand in the fitting room looking at a bunch of shit Blackheart picked out for me. I don’t know what his problem is. He’s the one who picked out my clothing the first time we went shopping, and now he’s suddenly not satisfied. The man needs meds, and he needs them badly.

I’m still so upset about this afternoon. When I was in Charlotte’s apartment, it’s like it was last Friday night all over again. I need a distraction, and trying on clothes doesn’t seem so bad.

I pick up the first item he picked out for me, and it’s a black leather mini dress. It’s hot as hell, but it pisses me off that he wants me to wear this for him. Still, leaving this here would be ridiculous especially when he’s paying. I slide out of my sundress quickly, leaving on my bra and panties, and slide into outfit number one.

My fitting room attendant slips something under the curtain, and my mouth waters at the gorgeous leather pumps in front of me. They’re soft leather with pointed toes, and they’re my perfect size. Her singsong voice makes my skin crawl. “Your gentleman picked these out for you.”

Of course he did. And he may be mine, but he’s anything but a gentleman. I slide into the heels and look at myself in the mirror. Everything fits like a glove, and I almost feel like I did a month ago when I was a single young woman going out every night and enjoying my life. I pull my hair out of my dress collar, letting it dust my shoulders while I pull back the drape to show my crazy cowboy how I look.

Blackheart smirks and swirls his finger in the air for me to turn around. I plaster a smile on my face, trying to look happy. I need to act like I’m happy to be with him even if I’m not. All it takes is for one person to think I’m a woman in danger and then I’ll be at a police station getting picked up by my father in no time.

He whistles at me and grins when I face him again. “Beautiful. We’ll be getting this.”

He just called me beautiful. I almost say thank you when I remember I’m supposed to be mad at him. Instead, I give him my back and head back to try on option number two.

I slide into a pair of jeans that are exactly like the ones Karissa styled me in the first time I went shopping with Blackheart. He found me a lace-up top to go with. It’s white with matching white laces, and it makes my boobs look twice as big. I try on my boots with this outfit, and when I go to show him how it looks, he blushes like a schoolboy. “I like this too. Try on the next one.”

I get back behind the curtain and put on a white leather mini skirt with a matching white leather vest. A pair of white leather boots are slipped under my curtain, and all I can do is chuckle knowing he’s the one who sent them in here. When I go back in front of him, he curls his finger at me, urging me forward.

I shake my head at him. I don’t know what the hell he wants, but I’m not in the mood. His jaw tightens as he leans forward, and I know he means business. “Don’t make me ask again, Montana. Come here.”

I keep my chest high while I walk toward him, feeling something I haven’t felt before with him. For the first time ever, I don’t feel frightened of him. With him seated before me, I almost feel in control.

His strong hands land on my hips, and he spins me around slowly, putting my ass in his face. I get a flashback to when he spanked me, and I hate how much I want him to do it again.

His hands slide lower until they’re at the hem of my skirt, and he brushes his thumbs over my bare upper thighs. His low and husky voice tickles my exposed lower back. “I don’t like this one.”

My confidence lowers five notches at his revelation, and I turn around, breaking free of his grasp. “What’s wrong with it?”

His eyes dart down to the skirt, looking it over carefully. “It’s way too short. Might invite someone to put their hands on my girl. I can’t have that. Go change into the last one.”

I feel the need to be claimed at the way he calls me his girl. He only says his girls when he’s referring to his horses. He’s probably just playing into our charade of lovers, but it makes me feel desired all the same. And I’d never tell him, but the thought of him desiring me doesn’t sound as bad as it did yesterday. Even if he is mean and moronic. It must be my hormones making me feel this way.

It takes me longer to get dressed in the last outfit. I pull on a pair of high-waisted leather pants, and then put on a black leather crop top that’s so short, it barely covers my bra. It has a high neckline, and it fits as snug as a sports bra. Paired with the pants, it looks amazing.

There’s a black studded belt on a hanger, and I loop it through the pants which gives them a little extra glamour.

Then there’s a cropped black denim jacket with fringe on the pockets. I slide it on, and then I add a black velvet choker that got slipped into the pile. Last but not least, I put on the black leather cowgirl boots that get slipped under my curtain. There’s a black leather jacket with fringe on the sleeves that would go with this look too, but the denim jacket isn’t as hot. I step out to show him what he created, and he stands up with a smile on his face. “Now you look like mine.”

I ignore the heat stirring inside me and spin around on my own, wanting him to see the full look. He walks past me into my fitting room getting all of the other options he liked, and then we head to the register to check out.

By the time we get to the motel, it’s nearly six p.m., and I’m starving.

Blackheart carries in our suitcases and shopping bags into our room, and I sit on a chair in the corner, getting ready to take off my shoes when he stops me. “Don’t change. I’m going to use the bathroom, and then we’re going out.”

“Going out where?” I figured I’d spend my evening chained to the bed with shitty takeout, but it seems we have other plans .

He pulls out his phone, typing something in. “I didn’t want to come to Colorado Springs to stare at the paint on the wall. We’re going to a bar not too far from here where we’ll have dinner. Is that a problem for you?”

His question is rhetorical, but I answer anyway, not wanting him to change his mind. Going out might be nice. Maybe he’ll let me have a drink and I can try and erase my terrible memories and pretend I’m not Montana Barnes for a few hours. “That’s not a problem at all.”

He heads toward the bathroom then doubles back, looking at me. “Can I trust you, Montana?”

No is the first word that pops into my head. He can’t trust me, and he shouldn’t. Just like he’s still suspicious of me, I’m suspicious of him, and I’m still on the fence about running. The closer we get to Arizona, the more I think that maybe I could still escape him. If I got a ride, I could get my money without him, and I’d be on my way and never have to see him again.

But the thought of doing so scares me. There’s no one else I can go to for help. Charlotte was all I had left. And putting myself in the hands of another stranger is just as frightening as staying with the man who attempted to shoot me. For now, I’ll just play it by ear and see how the next couple of days are before I do anything crazy .

I look at him and give him my most sincere look, hoping he believes the words I’m about to say next. “You can trust me. I won’t go anywhere. I promise.”

He nods his head, and then he goes into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.