Beatrice’s POV.
“I’m here under duress,” Lucas stands in the hallway outside my apartment with arms the size of tree limbs crossed over his chest and a frown.
“Do you think I want to spend my Saturday shopping?”
I lock my apartment and adjust my purse on my shoulder. It’s one of the habits I adopted to blend in with humans. Witches don’t carry purses. We have pockets and magic to make them hold anything we might need.
“Yes. Don’t all women like to shop?”
“No,” I start down the hall toward the stairs and parking garage.
Driving is another human habit I had to learn; witches don’t use brooms to fly, but we do use them to teleport wherever we need to go.
“I’d rather be coding or sleeping in or doing basically anything else,” I say. Lucas follows behind me.
“Well, Bash ordered you to get some fancy duds for the Hamptons, and since you’re his girlfriend for me to accompany you. For the appearance of protection. Let’s go Barbie.”