Toxic - Zoe Blake Page 0,44

but Richard explained it was for my safety since these phones were harder to hack. Since he owned several technology companies, of course I believed him. Why wouldn’t I?

You would have thought a high-level dignitary or perhaps some huge celebrity was arriving the way I rolled up to a meeting with my dressmaker.

Richard insisted on two security cars flanking my driver and car at all times. After arriving, I waited somewhat impatiently in the back seat of the BMW X5 Security Plus, which was just a fancy way of saying big fucking scary armored car. I overheard one of the security guards say it was actually bulletproof against an AK-47.

I kept my hands folded in my lap, remembering all too well the severe punishment I had received from Richard two days ago when he had learned I had opened my own car door and stepped out onto the street before the all-clear. Shifting in my seat, I swore I could still feel the welts from his belt.

Normal Richard was incredibly intense… high-alert, worried-about-my-safety Richard was in another orbit, over-the-top intense. Last night over dinner, I had teased about him resorting to having me locked away in a tower on some island in the middle of the ocean. He hadn’t laughed. In fact, he had just stared at me in a rather unsettling way before he changed the subject.

Finally, the door opened.

The flashes blinded me. Fucking paparazzi. Richard told me to ignore them, but he wasn’t the subject of their fascination.

Lizzie!

Lizzie!

Sweetie, over here!

Here!

Oi! Oi!

Lowering my head, I tried to make my way into the shop.

Hey! Lizzie!

Oi! Is it true you’re a gold digger?

Hey, gold digger!

Whore!

Without thinking, I turned to give them both middle fingers. “Fuck you,” I yelled before ducking through the open door.

The moment I did it, I regretted it. If Richard found out he would be furious. He specifically has told me not to engage or give them anything to comment on. Didn’t the middle finger mean something different in England? Didn’t they flash the peace sign as their middle finger or something like that? Maybe I would get lucky and they wouldn’t see the gesture for what it was.

Wishful thinking.

“Lady Elizabeth, welcome!”

“It’s just Elizabeth here, Maxine.”

Maxine pretended to zip her lips shut, then gave me a wink.

Casting an uneasy glance around the elegant boutique, I nervously looked to see if anyone else was observing our conversation. Maxine was one of the few people who Richard allowed to visit me while on the estate. She was a genius with a needle and had brought many of my Victorian dress designs to stunning life, but that didn’t mean I wanted the details of Richard’s and my little game to leak to the press.

“I have had all four of my seamstresses working round the clock since we got Richard’s message, chéri. We already have it patterned out in muslin for you to try on.”

“So soon? There is no rush. We haven’t even started planning the wedding.”

“My dear, with Richard there is always a rush,” said Maxine as she fluttered her hand in the air dramatically.

Richard had asked me to come to Maxine’s this morning to start my wedding dress plans. I had no idea she had already cut the pattern on something.

“What design are you using?”

Maxine laughed, her bright red lips opening in a perfect circle. “Why, yours, of course! It is beautiful, chéri. Some of your best work.” Looping her arm through mine, she led me down a narrow hallway to a private lounge. “Love the outfit, chéri. I’m not used to seeing you in such modern fashions.”

I straightened the black velvet vest over the short lavaliere-neck dress in cobalt blue silk with gold embroidery that had arrived from Yves Saint Laurent in Paris yesterday. I gestured to the tejus-embossed gold leather boots. “Do you think the boots are too much?’

“No. No. No. My darling, when you date a man like Richard you cannot be afraid of a little flair and drama.”

Ain’t that the truth.

Maxine clapped her hands. A woman with icy blonde hair and long bangs that covered her eyes appeared with a glass of champagne on a tray decorated with red roses.

Taking the crystal flute, I tilted my head to get a better look at her. “I’m sorry. Have we met?”

The woman glared and walked away without answering. At least I think she glared; I couldn’t tell because of the bangs. Perhaps she thought I was insulting her?

“Here is the design,” announced Maxine as she strolled back into