Chapter Ten

Riley Lynn (P.O.V.)

For the first half of the car ride, things went smoothly.

The music stayed loud, and Vincent kept his mouth shut. Then around the hour mark, he turned the volume down. 

"I will be parking my car right outside of the city and a driver will be picking us up to chauffeur us the rest of the way okay," he told me. 

"Why do not we just stop at a station and ride the train?" I asked him but he wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"Why would I want to willingly ride in on dirty public transport when I have a driver who gets paid to drive me anywhere I want to go?" 

I rolled my eyes at Vincent's arrogant behavior.

While I may not be the biggest fan of public transport either, I would not have gone that far. The subways and trains were very useful in the crowded city. We would probably be sitting in traffic longer than it would take to ride into the city. I did not argue though. I figured my words would fall upon deaf ears.

Vincent seemed like the type to do whatever he wanted no matter what anyone else said and I was getting paid to do this, so it is not like I have much say anyway. 

"Where are we going?" I asked, looking down at my beaten up sneakers.

Hopefully wherever we were eating, it did not have a dress code because I would fail spectacularly. 

"It is a surprise," he responded. 

"So, I am going to guess that what I am wearing is not going to cut it." I muttered. 

"Did you think it would?" 

I closed my eyes for a moment, trying not to feel insulted.

"I could not find any of the dresses I own. I am sorry." 

"You do not have anything to apologize for," he said offhandedly.

"I most likely would have made you change anyway." 

Breathe, Riley, breathe.

"Do you have to sound so condescending when you talk to me?" I asked, turning in my seat to give him a dirty look. 

He seemed surprised. "

Am I being condescending?" 

He didn't even realize it. Oh man, I was dealing with a special kind of arrogance. Just what kind of mindset did this guy have? If I had to deal with this all night, I doubt I will survive. 

As promised, Vincent parked his car in a parking garage and had us picked up by a man in a suit driving a more modest looking BMW. Both of us climbed into the back seat and when we were buckled in, the driver took off. The buildings around us got taller and the streets grew narrower, and I knew we were getting close to the heart of the city. Predictably, we hit traffic. I expected Vincent to complain, but he kept his mouth shut, just staring out the window. I turned my attention out my own window, watching the crowds of people on the sidewalks coming in and out of businesses and apartments. Crowds usually bothered me, but they rather suited the city. In an aesthetically pleasing kind of way. 

"Pull over here," Vincent suddenly ordered, startling me.

"Riley, we are getting out here." 

The driver did as instructed and I immediately opened the door, wanting some fresh air. I looked around, only to not recognize where we were. I knew it was not Times Square, that is for sure.

The older I got, the less I went into the city. The air felt stuffy, and the temperature was at least ten degrees higher than it would have been in Philadelphia. 

"This way," Vincent said and took my hand in his. 

I stared at our hands, wondering if I should pull mine away. He had mentioned that handholding would be part of the contract, though, so I decided not to withdraw my hand from his. We walked down the street a little bit and I followed a few steps behind Vincent so that we would not end up crowding the sidewalk since he was pretty intent on not letting go of my hand.

Eventually we came to a store on the corner of Grand Street with wide windows and the lettering Calvin Klein under them. There was a couple coming out of the store. The man wore a suit. The woman wore a tight black dress and the tallest heels I had ever seen.

"I cannot go in there," I immediately said to Vincent, pulling on his hand. 

He stopped, turning to me with a frown.

"Why not?" 

"They will kick me out before I even take two steps inside," I told him, afraid that my words might not actually be too far from the truth.

They might think I was a homeless person or something. 

Vincent smiled a little bit.

"They know you are coming. As I said, I made an appointment for you." 

I raised an eyebrow at Vincent, but before I could say anything else, he already started pulling me into the store.

As I would have expected, the interior design of the store was an incredible sight. Everything was so organized—the presentation, the displays, the mannequins. Even the salespeople looked like they were pre-positioned. The minute my foot landed on the hardwood floor; all eyes were on me. Then, almost immediate, all of the eyes left me. Probably deciding I looked too poor to be worth their time. 

One of the salesladies made eye contact with Vincent and her red lips curved up in a predatory way.

"Mr. Luciano!" 

Vincent made eye contact with the lady and greeted her with a small wave.

"Stephanie, it has been a while, hasn't it. This is Riley, the girl I spoke to you about earlier." 

Stephanie turned her attention back to me, her expression falling the slightest bit. I tried to offer her a smile, but I think it came out as more of a grimace. She looked intimidating. She seemed fit, at least four inches taller than me, and with pin-straight hair. She must have been a model when she was younger or something. 

"I do not want this to take up too much of my time, so please have her try on what you have already selected," Vincent said, pushing me in front of him.

 I did my best not to let him move me. There was no way I was going with this scary woman alone. Stephanie looked a little disdainful, but she motioned for me to follower her.

"Yes, well I will see what I can do about her." 

"Okay, great. I am eager to see the results. Go along, Riley." 

I gave Vincent a quick glare before walking toward Stephanie. He made me sound like a dog or something. As I walked by the displays, I could not help but judge them. Majority of the clothes they deemed to be dresses just looked like black curtains wrapped around the mannequins. I peeked at one of the price tags and nearly gasped. It cost more than I could make in three weeks! 

Stephanie did not say one word to me as we walked deeper into the store. I had to admit that despite the horrifying prices and weird designs, the minimalist design of the place really suited it. The floors were open and airy. It did not feel as claustrophobic and stuffy, as most clothing stores usually did— unless I thought about the many employees just standing around staring down at me.

It seemed Vincent and I were the only people in the store currently. We eventually arrived at a back room that I assumed to be a fitting room, but it also felt more private than that.

I wondered if it was open to the public.

Stephanie turned around and gave my body a once over, her lips pursed. Then she pulled out a measuring tape from God knows where and measured me.

"You have a nice body shape," she commented, her face remaining expressionless as she spoke. 

"Oh, um, thank you," I responded. 

"Mhm, I know what style Vincent likes, so I will go ahead and pull out a few dresses for you to try on. I will choose which one suits you the most and then we will find a pair of heels to match it. You may wait in the fitting room, while I bring them to you," she ordered, pointing to one of the stalls along the back edge of the room. 

I nodded mutely, unsure of how to respond. Did I not have any say in what I was going to wear?

Something felt a little wrong about that but then again, judging by the prices I saw on the displays, I would not be offering to pay Vincent back for it. There was no way. It felt like at least twenty minutes passed before Stephanie returned to me with three different dresses. I could not understand why it took so long because the store only looked to have only a few different designs.

I shimmied out of my clothes and pulled on the first dress and turned to look in the mirror. 

I almost burst out laughing.

Dress was kind of a stretch to call the material I was wearing. It looked like I had thrown on a black sheet with a hole cut in it for my arms and head. I looked like a block.

Still, I showed Stephanie. 

"Hmm, that looks alright," she commented. 

"I look like I am wearing a trash bag," I said before I could stop myself. 

She narrowed her eyes at me like I had offended her purposely.

"That is one of Mr. Klein's most popular designs."

"I wonder how." I retorted.

"Tasteless," she muttered.

"Go try on the next one." Stephanie ordered, this time a little bit louder.

I rolled my eyes as I went back into the dressing room.

I really do not understand people with money. I could make a dress that looked just like this for like five bucks. All I needed was some fabric but just because it was a brand name, people would pay several hundred dollars for it. The second dress was almost as bad as the first one. It made my tits look huge.

"I am not wearing this one," I announced as I came out of the dressing room. 

Stephanie arched her eyebrow at me and sighed heavily in annoyance.

"What is it this time?" 

I turned to my side and gestured to my chest. The fabric was pulled way too tight against my skin and my boobs looked like small mountains from the side. Not to mention that if I raised one leg too high my butt would surely show. The dress was so short. I looked ready to work the street corner. 

"Yes, that design is more for ladies with desirable body types," Stephanie responded, smirking a little.

 I refrained from saying anything back. It was not good to attack other ladies. Even if said other ladies were rude.

"Every size of body is desirable," I said instead and marched back into the fitting room. 

I prayed for good things about the last dress. If it was awful, I would not care about the job anymore, I will not wear it. I was not going to parade myself around like an idiot in a sheet of black material. Like the first two, the third dress was black. Unlike the first two, this one was a long dress, reaching my ankles. There was a thigh-high slit along the side though. Then it wrapped around my chest tightly, like a bustier. Which was perfect because I did not want my bra to show through. It also had a satin belt that rested a little higher than my hips. I looked in the mirror and while I was not too impressed, I found it acceptable. My boobs did not look huge, and I actually looked a little sexy when I pushed my leg out of the slit. 

Thank God I chose to shave my legs today. 

I sauntered out of the dressing room, feeling more confident. The longer I was in the dress, the more I began to like it. Stephanie's expression told me she was impressed as well, but she quickly schooled it.

"Well, I knew that one would suit you." 

"Out of the three, this is my choice." 

"That one is the most expensive. Of course, I am sure Vincent is paying for all of this," she said, looking petty. 

I shrugged.

"Personally, I would not waste my money on this crap." I said which made her scowl.

"Let's move onto shoes." 

I gathered up my old clothes and slipped on my sneakers before following her out of the back room. Vincent was in the main room, chatting to another one of the salesgirls. He did not notice me as we walked by and made our way downstairs. 

"With that gown, you will want to go with a peep-toe pump," Stephanie was saying as we made our way through a section that held only shoes.

"I have the perfect pair in mind." 

I nodded dumbly because I had no idea what that meant. She instructed me to sit down on one of the leather sofas, so I did. After measuring my bare foot, she took off to retrieve a pair of heels. I lifted my leg up in the air to watch the fabric of the dress fall back to reveal my skin. I liked how sexy it looked. I had never owned anything with a slit in it before. 

"Try these on." 

A pair of four-inch black heels dangled in front of my face. I took them from Stephanie's hands and slipped my feet into them. My toes peeked out from the bottom of them, and I understood why they were called peep-toe pumps. Stephanie strapped them for me and then told me to walk around. I pushed myself off the couch and wobbled for a moment, as I am unaccustomed to heels. She gave me a contemptuous look that I ignored. The chunky heels clacked loudly on the floor, and I felt a little embarrassed. I cannot even remember the last time I wore heels. 

"Have you ever walked in heels before?" she snapped at me as I almost broke my ankle while turning. 

"A couple of times." I muttered, as I continued to try to contain the blood that rushed to my cheeks, making me blush.

"Where in the world did Vincent find you?" she muttered to herself. 

I knew she wanted me to hear it though.

"Is that something you should be saying to a customer?" I asked. 

"You are not the customer. Vincent is. I should have expected you to be like this from what he had said earlier." 

We had a mini glaring match and eventually I looked away. I could not care less about what she thought of me. I did not care about whatever Vincent had said about me either. I was just doing this for the money so had to put up with it. 

Just then I heard someone coming down the stairs and I turned to see Vincent. His eyes fell upon me, and he stopped mid-step. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, I pulled my legs in tightly so that no skin would show through the slit. 

"Mr. Luciano," Stephanie started. "I know she does not look her best—" 

I started to make a face, but Vincent's voice stopped me. 

"Riley, you look stunning," he complimented, completely talking over her. 

My eyes snapped to him, and I felt my mouth open a little. Had those words really come out of his mouth? Did he mean it? Vincent thought I looked good. I wondered if it was the brand name clothing that currently hung off my body. 

"Fine clothing suits you well," he continued, coming up to me and totally checking me out. 

Stephanie watched us with her arms crossed. Feeling a little cheeky, I moved so that the slit would split and reveal my leg.

"Do you not think too much of my leg is showing, though?" 

Vincent's eyes moved from my ankle all the way up to the middle of my thigh where the slit ended, and he made a noncommittal noise. I almost rolled my eyes. Guys were so simple. 

Clearing his throat, Vincent turned his attention to Stephanie.

"We have to leave for her hair appointment. Can you ring us out?" 

"Of course, let us head back upstairs," she answered, giving him a wide smile. 

I made sure to walk in front of the group knowing that the dress would sculpt my bottom. Flaunt what you got and all that. The total for the dress and heels almost made me want to cry.

"I am assuming you would be paying?" Stephanie said, directing her question to the richer of us. 

Vincent put a hand on my shoulder.

"She would refuse it if I made her pay." 

Well, duh. Who pays a thousand dollars for a dress and a pair of shoes? Stephanie smirked a little and I crossed my arms. Was she expecting me to be embarrassed? If I worked here, I would be embarrassed about the crap they were selling. Vincent had no problem swiping his card for over a grand. I just could not comprehend the way his mind processed money. Even if I suddenly became a millionaire, I would still shop low-price to high-price, sale rack first. 

"You know, we could find this dress at Forever 21 for like seven hundred dollars cheaper," I said to Vincent as Stephanie took my old clothes and put them in a bag for me. 

Both of them turned to me, Vincent smiling, Stephanie shaking her head.

"You and your chain store clothing." He took the bag with my clothes and said goodbye to Stephanie as he led me out of the store. 

"Next we are going to a friend of mine to have your hair and make-up done," he told me, looking around for his driver. 

The wind blew and the dress shifted, revealing my leg. Now that we were out in public and I was not trying to show off, I felt self-conscious. I moved so that the slit would not open.

"Why do I have to do that? What is wrong with my hair now?" I asked him as I consciously played with a strand of my hair.

He glanced over his shoulder at me.

"It could use improvement." 

I grit my teeth together.

"Gee, thanks." I said sarcastically.

"There is always room for improvement, Riley." 

I tugged at my blonde locks. Usually, I tried to straighten my hair to make it look more presentable, but during the summer it was usually too hot, so I skipped it. I did not think it looked that bad though. And as for my make-up, who cared? My skin was not that bad in the first place.

After finding his driver, we got back into the car. Walking would have made more sense, but I kept my mouth shut because walking in these heels would not have been very fun either. For the first time I was glad Vincent had a weird thing against the public. 

My appointment at the salon went more or less like the one at Calvin Klein. When we got there, they drooled over Vincent, I received weird looks from the employees, and they dolled me up.

My stylist was pretty pleasant though. She was a cute girl with curly brown hair. She worked on me for what felt like forever, snipping off dead ends and using every kind of spray in existence on me, but after it was all done, I could not believe my eyes. It had been a while since I got to put any effort into looking good, so getting it professionally done was something else. I hate to say I barely recognized myself, but it was true. Simply put, I looked amazing. 

"You performed a miracle," I said to my stylist.

I think she said her name was Lily. She smiled down at me.

"I am just bringing out what is already there." She said kindly with a smile on her face as she admired her work.

"See? Always room for improvement," Vincent said from above me. 

I turned to scowl at him.

He just smiled back at me pleasantly.

I really could not tell if he was trying to be an a**hole or was just really that ignorant. 

"She is just as beautiful as she was when she came in," Lily said, shooting Vincent a dirty look. 

I decided I liked Lily. 

"I am sorry you have to deal with him," she said to me. "He really has no idea how to interact with people well unless it is business. He has been that way his whole life." Lily explained.

"He is.... something else, alright." I muttered.

"Do not be afraid to tell it to him as it is. He probably does not even realize he is being rude." 

Telling off Vincent sounded nice, but I was also trying to just deal with it. I was not a very confrontational person. 

"You are all set to go," she told me, taking the smock off of me. 

I stood up and gently prodded at my hair. She curled it better than I could even dream of doing to myself.

"Thank you," I said as I followed her back to the front of the store where the register was.

Vincent kept staring at me, but I pretended not to notice. 

"You are very welcome. It will be one-fifty for the hair and make-up." 

One hundred and fifty dollars for hair and makeup? That was crazy! Or maybe it was average. I do not ever go to the salon. Begrudgingly, I pulled out my wallet to pay, but Vincent stopped me.

"I will pay," he said. 

I was tempted to let him, but I still had the ten grand he had tipped me.

"No, I will pay—"

 "I will pay. No need for you to spend unnecessary money. You should keep it," he interjected, pushing my hand down and pulling out his card. 

Lily raised an eyebrow but took the card and swiped it. I turned my gaze to the floor, unable to respond. He was partially right. I would rather save the money he had given me, but it was the way he said it that irritated me. I got it— I was poor. There was not a need to remind me every five seconds. 

"Have a great night!" Lily called to us as we exited the salon.

"And Vincent, please try and act a little bit more like a proper gentleman." Vincent glanced back at her in confusion and then to me.

"What? I am being a gentleman, aren't I?" 

I scoffed and turned it into a cough. 

"Aren't I?" he repeated, sounding more unsure this time. I did not answer. Best to let him wallow in that for the moment.