Chapter 8

“Why are you laughing? I’m serious,” Minnie says with a frown.

“Sure, pet, sure.” I pat her on the shoulders. “We should get you some shoes first. Just seeing you in those goddamn slides makes me physically uncomfortable.”

“But—”

“Come,” I tell her and grab her hand.

I’m not too familiar with women’s brands, but I spot a shoe store close to the entrance, so we head there.

As we enter the store, all eyes are suddenly on us. There are mostly women inside, but the few men who wait around while their wives shop stare openly at Minnie.

I suppose they’re equally offended by her battered slides.

“We’ll get you some sneakers and boots for now. You can pick more items if something catches your fancy,” I comment as I accompany her to the sneaker display.

Her hand is still in mine. She’s incredibly close to me, sliding even closer when someone looks her way. Perhaps this is a sign of her trauma, too. She’s already been through too much. And for some reason, she finds me safe.

My chest fills with pride, and I’m surprised to realize how delighted I am by the prospect that I’m her safe haven. Despite having an issue with strangers coming into my personal space, I don’t mind it so much with her.

I pull her closer.

She gives me a shy smile.

There. Smart girl.

We browse around the sneaker selection for a while, but Minnie doesn’t know what to choose.

“What do you like?” I ask her eventually.

“I like white. And red.”

“What type of shoe do you like?” I amend with a laugh.

Her brows furrow.

“I just want something comfortable.”

Right at that moment, a sales associate clears her throat as she comes to our side.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” she asks with a sickeningly sweet smile.

Despite the fact that we’re looking at the female section of shoes, she’s not even looking at Minnie or directing the question toward her. Instead, she’s trying to work her wiles on me.

Ah, she probably thinks I’m the one paying, so she needs to be in my good graces.

Alas, I don’t like the way she’s ignoring my little heathen. She’s the customer after all.

“What do you have in size five?” I ask brusquely.

“Size five?” she repeats, a frown pulling at her features. “The smallest most brands carry is a six. You should go to the kids’ section.”

Then she smiles. The same fake-ass smile.

Minnie gawks at her.

I narrow my eyes, my cheek twitching in annoyance.

“What about these?” I pick up the pair of sneakers that seems to be the smallest visually. Looking at the sole, I note they’re a size thirty-five—the European equivalent of five.

“Uhm…” The sales assistant clears her throat.

“Bring us the other pair for this one.”

The woman looks as if she wants to say something else, but she holds her tongue and mutters an I’ll be back.

Minnie raises herself on her toes to peek at the shoe. I realize I’m holding it too high for her to see, so I hand it to her.

“Oh,” she murmurs. “They’re white with red.”

There’s something about the cadence of her voice that makes my breath stop. It’s a combination of wonder and excitement that I don’t think I’ve ever felt for something as mundane as a shoe. But just as that thought crosses my mind, I berate myself.

I was fortunate enough to be born into a wealthy family and even more fortunate to be able to start my business with the inheritance I got when I turned eighteen. I’ve never wanted for anything in my entire life. Not too many people can say that.

Minnie has probably worn hand-me-downs her entire life, especially since she grew up in the system. I doubt she’s bought herself many new things.

Not wanting to mar her happiness, I keep a finger on the price tag so she doesn’t feel bad about it.

“You like them?”

“Of course I do! They’re so pretty! And look, they have a high heel,” she says excitedly as she points to the platform, which by my estimates looks to be about two to three inches tall.

“That’s a platform, pet. But I’m glad you like them. Sit down and try them on,” I mention as the sales assistant comes back with the other shoe.

Minnie sits down on a round cushion and takes off her worn slides, placing them carefully aside. I don’t know why that gesture in itself sends a sharp pain in my chest.

She takes the left shoe and undoes the laces before gingerly sliding her foot inside. She does the same with the other shoe and then proceeds to utterly fail at tying the laces back.

“Let me,” I murmur and get to my knees in front of her. I tie one shoelace, then the other.

“They fit well?” I ask after I’m done.

She moves her feet around to test the shoe before getting up and walking a few steps.

“Oh, yes!” she exclaims. “And look, Marlowe. I’m taller,” she says as she plants herself before me and shows me that now she’s slightly taller.

“Yes, you are,” I chuckle. “We’ll get these,” I note to the sales assistant.

She nods.

Minnie does a pirouette. She has an effusive smile on her lips as she skips around me, thanking me profusely for her new pair of shoes.

If she’s this easy to please…

I go around looking for more shoes her size, and I find a pair of rain boots, a pair of normal leather boots, a leather loafer in white, and a pair of flats in red.

I take them and head back to Minnie so she can try them on. But as I turn toward her, I note that she’s now surrounded by a group of men.

What the fuck?

I turned my back for a couple of minutes and this happened.

“Come on, miss. Tell us your name.”

“Please leave,” Minnie whispers, her eyes stuck to the ground.

“You heard the lady. Leave,” I grit out as I reach her side.

They’re the same men who’d been eyeing her when we came in. And to make matters even worse, their wives are a few steps away, ready to blow up at their inappropriate behavior.

“But I’ve never seen someone so beautiful before,” one of the men says, his gaze roaming over Minnie’s body.

“And you will not see again if you don’t fucking move.” I lower my voice, the threat clear.

“Marlowe,” Minnie whimpers as she all but throws herself into my arms. “Make them go away, please.”

The men follow her with their eyes, almost as if they’re drunk on the sight of her. They take a step closer. Fucking hell, they look like zombies who’ve lost all capacity for reason.

“Security!” I call out.

At the same time, the wives try to pull their husbands away, their shrilly voices echoing in the store as they dare insult my Minnie instead of their lascivious husbands.

“Lady, shut the fuck up,” I snap, pulling Minnie behind me to shield her once more. “One more word about her and I’ll forget you’re a woman and that sometimes I’m a gentleman.”

That seems to shut her up. And as soon as Minnie is out of sight, the men suddenly regain control of their faculties. They appear aghast at their actions, and they let their wives lead them, who continue to nag and chide.

Security just now arrives in the form of a brawny man. But I don’t know if he’s supposed to help in any way considering the way his eyes widen when he spots Minnie. His entire body language changes. From a professional stance, he now looks like a lovestruck fool as he advances toward us.

“Stop!” I order him, hiding Minnie again.

The glaze covering his eyes vanishes and he blinks.

“Leave us.”

He mutters something but does as told.

Turning to the sales assistant who is still by our side, albeit just as shocked as everyone else, I say, “Pack those shoes too.” I point to the ones I’d picked out earlier. “She’ll keep these platform sneakers on.”

She stares at me.

“Hurry!” I bark out.

Nodding, she takes the shoes from my hand and runs to the back.

Minnie squeezes my hand.

“I wasn’t joking earlier,” she whispers, gazing up at me with those soulful eyes of hers. “Men see me and…”

“I got it,” I answer tightly.

I’m still perplexed as to why this happens. She’s pretty, yes, and her eyes have an otherworldly quality to them. But she’s hardly the type to make men go mad with desire.

One person could have been a fluke. But three men at once trying to get close to her and telling her she’s the most beautiful woman they’ve ever seen? Coupled with the two assaults I saved her from?

Something is odd.

And I don’t like it. Not one fucking bit.

“Please don’t be mad at me,” she whispers, pulling on my hand.

“I’m not mad at you, pet. I’m mad at those fucking losers.”

“It always happens,” she says with a sigh. “I think we should go back home. I’ll just get you into more trouble.”

“No.” I’m surprised at the firmness of my tone. “We came here to get what you like. And we’re going to do exactly that. If someone tries to get close to you, they’ll have to get through me first.”

She bites her lip as she regards me wide-eyed.

“I don’t think you realize it, pet. But I’m not an easy guy to get past.”

“You’re strong,” she murmurs. “You can protect me.”

“Damn right.” I nod.

Smart girl. Perhaps my initial assessment of her was not entirely accurate. She might be ignorant about many things, but at least she can recognize that I’m the only one who can protect her.

Because I’m the only one who can claim her life, too.

“I knew you could protect me, Marlowe,” she says before she wraps her arms around my midriff in a tight hug. “You’re the bestest ever.”

“Best,” I correct, though my tone is nowhere as harsh as before. “It’s already superlative.”

She shakes her head against my chest.

“Superlative will never be enough.”

Odd little creature.

I sigh.

For all the trouble she creates in her wake, she’s proving to be quite the entertaining little thing. Perhaps I could put off killing her for a while—only as long as I derive entertainment from her.

My therapist was right. I need to meet new people, for they’re the only way I can grow and learn. And in a way, I took her advice.

I met her. Killing Minnie is not going to be anywhere near my usual modus operandi. It’s going to be a glorious new start, and I’ll relish every single moment of it.

I’ve never personally known my victims before.

With the exception of Mr. Rhodes, my old neighbor, though I’m not sure he counts. He was only someone within my proximity, not someone with whom I interacted. Then there was also… No, he doesn’t count either.

Minnie is different. She’ll change everything.

“Why is your heart beating so fast, Marlowe?” Minnie’s voice puts a stop to my train of thought.

A slow, insidious smile spreads across my lips.

“I was thinking about something exciting, pet,” I murmur.

She leans back to look at me, blinking curiously.

“What?”

“You,” I answer.

“Me?”

“Yes. You, pet.”

I smile then. A smile to lure the prey. A smile to get her comfortable.

And she smiles back.

Ah, my little heathen, I have grand plans for you. So grand, I cannot help the giddiness bubbling inside of me.

This is a foreign feeling for me.

Excitement.

Yet as I look at her, so small, so trusting, I can’t help but picture the future.

Her, unmoving. Her, on display.

All for me.

“Sir, your order is ready,” the sales assistant calls out.

I sigh when that exhilarating image dissipates.

If I killed women, I’d kill that annoying sales assistant in a heartbeat.

But I don’t.

Except for Minnie.

She’ll be the only one. My only one.

Because she’s special. The mostest special.

I chuckle to myself as I lead Minnie to the counter and pay for the shoes.

As long as I disguise myself as her protector, she’ll never know what truly awaits her.

With the shoes paid, we leave. I ask for our purchases to be taken to my car while we go browse other stores.

Minnie is almost bursting with happiness as she keeps staring at her new shoes. But that all changes when we go up the escalator and more men turn their sights on her. She huddles closer to my side, burying her small hand in mine.

I keep my focus razor-sharp in case anyone decides to approach. Her claims don’t seem as ludicrous now as I note the way men eat her up with their eyes, almost as if they were bewitched by her.

Somehow, the prospect of others watching her like this enrages me.

They will not get to touch her—not on my watch. But even their eyes on her are more than I can stand, and the violence in me stirs.

I take a deep breath.

I must calm down.

The last thing I want, or need, is to create another scene like the one from the diner. Luckily, that had been in a remote location. The same shit won’t fly in the middle of New York City.

Spotting a hat store, I take Minnie with me and buy her a cap, instructing her to keep it low on her face—perhaps this can help us avoid attention.

Alas. It might mitigate it, but it doesn’t stop completely.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers again.

“It’s all right, pet. We’ll buy you some clothes and leave.”

She gives me a tight nod but doesn’t seem too reassured.

We head into a ladies’ clothing store to try to avoid more male attention. There are still a couple here and there trailing after their wives, but hopefully, they’ll mind their own business.

I do my best to keep Minnie shielded by my side, and the moment another man tries to look her way, I give them my signature glare that makes them swiftly avert their eyes.

First, we shop for layers: leggings, tights, and undershirts.

“Do I really need that much?” she asks when she notes the pile of clothing mounting in our cart.

I raise a brow at her.

“I have money,” I tell her pointedly.

“You do, but I don’t. I don’t want to take advantage of your kindness,” she murmurs.

I stop her.

“Minnie, this is not kindness. I’m doing this for myself because I get cold the moment I see you without any clothes. So no. You’re not taking advantage of anything.”

Her lips flatten and she brings her gaze to the floor.

“You’re a bit controlling,” she mumbles under her breath.

“What was that?” I ask and tip her chin up.

“You are…controlling,” she says the words louder. “You’re always saying Minnie come here, Minnie let’s go there, Minnie do this, Minnie follow me?—”

“Damn right,” I cut her off. “My house, my rules.”

She narrows her eyes at me before she releases a long sigh. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Don’t look too down about it. You’re quite good at following orders,” I add with a wink.

Her cheeks flush a deep red before she averts her gaze. But I don’t miss the little smile that plays at her lips.

“You need jeans, shirts, sweaters, and a few dresses. A coat as well. And underwear…”

“Oh, like those?” Before I can reply, she dashes to the other side of the aisle where the lingerie is and haphazardly picks up a few pieces. She seems quite proud of her selection. A mix of white-and-red frilly things, including some lace underwear and a rather provocative bra.

“That won’t fit,” I note to the bra she just threw into the cart.

“What?” She blinks.

“I think you need a bigger cup.”

She glances down at the bra and then back at me.

“You think so? I’ve never worn a bra before,” she adds pensively.

“Never?” I ask, horrified.

She shakes her head.

“But it looks nice, so I wanted one.” She points to the ad pictures on the wall featuring models in lingerie.

I stare at her. I didn’t think she could surprise me more, but here she is.

“Get a few sizes and you can try them on,” I say.

She does as told, and then we fill the cart with more clothing items for her to try on. When there’s no more space in the cart, we finally head to the changing rooms.

I’ve been shopping with my mother before. Many times, in fact. Before I left my family’s house, that was her favorite pastime.

I always hated it.

It was dull and boring, and it consisted of my mother spending hours on end trying on clothes before leaving an exorbitant amount of money at check-out.

I should have hated this too. But for some reason, I find it rather interesting—sans the overwhelming male attention. Frankly, I could do without any of that.

But I like observing Minnie. It’s an opportunity for me to learn what she likes and what she doesn’t—to learn what makes her tick. It will come in handy at some point.

The more I know, the easier it will be to manipulate her and make her behave as I want her to.

I take a seat while Minnie goes inside the dressing room.

One after another, she tries on the outfits and comes out to get my opinion.

I tell her honestly which ones look good on her and which do not. She doesn’t seem particularly impressed with my frankness, but alas. If I’m footing the bill, I will not have her walking around in cheap, ill-fitting clothes.

We’re almost done sifting through the clothes when Minnie is down to the bras she’s chosen.

“Uhm, Marlowe?” she calls out, a tinge of worry in her voice. “I don’t think this works,” she adds in a defeated tone.

“What do you mean?”

She doesn’t come out, so I feel compelled to go after her. Pulling the curtain aside, I stop dead in my tracks.

This is my fault. I walked into this trap with my own two feet.

She’s wearing a lacy red bra that’s one or two sizes too small, her breasts spilling out of the cups. Luckily—for my sanity—she’s still wearing her pants.

“This is the biggest size I got and it still doesn’t fit.” She sighs as she turns to me, motioning toward the generous cleavage that’s now directly in my line of view.

I gulp down.

Just like before, Minnie is not at all shy about her nudity. She’s almost intentionally tempting me to feast my eyes on her assets, which to my everlasting shame, I do.

Did it suddenly get too warm in here?

“I can go look for bigger sizes. Do you want this model and color?”

She nods.

“Yes, please. It’s so pretty,” she gushes.

I press my lips together. She might not be the most beautiful woman in the world, but damn if she’s not the cutest. Even to my jaded eyes, she’s too compelling to ignore. So off I go in search of other bra sizes.

The women around give me odd looks as they see me browsing, with one older woman whispering, “He must be one of those perverts.”

I pick out three bigger sizes of the red bra and turn. Putting on my best smile, I look her dead in the eye.

“Not my fault I can wear this better than you, darling,” I say in a high-pitched voice, waving around the red bra. I wink at her and head back to the dressing room. A smile pulls at my lips as I hear the outraged cries of the older ladies in my wake.

God, how I hate people.

“You’re so wicked, Marlowe,” Minnie says with a chuckle.

I shrug.

“If the situation requires it…”

She continues laughing as she proceeds to try on the other sizes.

“So? What’s the verdict?”

“One of them fits!” she exclaims enthusiastically. “Oh my, Marlowe, look!”

She pulls back the curtain and steps out, letting everyone see how well that fucking bra looks on her.

My body is in motion before my brain can catch up.

She’s barely taken one step into the open before I push her back into the cabin and pull the curtain to cover us.

Tension rolls off me in violent waves as I realize that anyone could have seen her. Men and women alike, and for some reason, I take issue with other women seeing her like this, too.

My hands are on her shoulders, my fingers digging into her warm flesh.

It’s bad enough that men go crazy with just one look at her face. They’d probably launch a million ships if they got a glimpse of her body.

Her back hits the mirror as she gazes at me with concern.

“Marlo—”

“I get it that you’re not bothered by your nudity. But I am.”

“W-what do you mean?” Her lip trembles as she whispers. A look of hurt crosses her face. Another thing I don’t seem to like.

“I’m adding another rule to our agreement,” I add in a tight voice. “You may never show your naked body, or naked body parts to anyone.”

Her tongue peeks out and she licks her bottom lip.

The sight is unnerving, and warmth spreads through my body like wildfire.

It’s odd, isn’t it? I’m always hot when I’m in her presence. Me, who’s been cold my entire life.

“Anyone?” she murmurs softly.

“Anyone,” I confirm. Her eyes flash at me. “Anyone but me.”