Page 116 of Vicious King

Rose nibbles on her lip and looks back at Stacy’s still-swollen face.

“I want to be able to help.”

“That would be a huge help.”

After about ten minutes of sitting with Stacy, our phones both ping with a message from the group chat.

Lulu: Okay, I have three hours free. Let’s go shopping!

I grin and glance up at Rose.

“Shall we go shopping?”

“Heck yes,” Rose says. “But you’re not ready for this. Lulu and Natasha are insane. It’s like watching Olympic athletes.”

“Oh, I’m down for this. Let’s do it.”

Forty-One

RINA

“Idon’t know what happened.”

It’s six hours later, and I’m standing in our bedroom, surrounded by shopping bags. Rose wasn’t kidding when she said that Lulu and Natasha are feral shoppers. Add in Scarlett and it was almost terrifying.

And exhilarating.

I’m nearly numb as my eyes skim over the sea of bags. Chanel, Louis Vuitton, Dior, Fendi, Van Cleef & Arpels, Hermès, Cartier . . . I can’t.

“Wow,” Carson says as he walks into the room and stops short. He blinks, and then he busts up laughing, and all I can do is cover my face with my hands. “Did you have fun today?”

“It was only supposed to be three hours and one handbag,” I insist. “Lulu had some time because they finally found an amazing nanny, and she wanted to look for a pair of shoes. But it wasn’t three hours.”

“Or one bag,” he says, still laughing.

“I’m taking it all back.”

I shake my head and start for the bathroom, but Carson wraps an arm around me and pulls me to him, kissing my forehead.

“Do you like what you bought?”

“What’s not to like, Carson? But Jesus, I spent six figures today. Six figures. That’s almost what I used to make in a fucking year. There’s no way.”

Buyer’s remorse is real, and it has me in a goddamn choke hold.

“But do you like it?”

“I hardly remember it. I’m serious, those girls aren’t simply enablers. They should work for the companies because they know everything about fashion, and they can talk you into needing something in every single color. I think there’s a Birkin in there.”

“A what-in?”

I huff out a laugh. “An expensive-as-fuck handbag, Carson.”

“Okay, I need you to take a breath for me. I don’t care that you spent the money.”

“You should. Because it certainly wasn’t my money. I don’t have that much.”

“It’s ours. How many times do I have to tell you?”