Chapter 39: Shopping
~Present day~
The cool afternoon breeze through the opened balcony door carried the scent of wet pine, damp soil, and green leaves.
There was no snow. It was the middle of a Scandinavian summer, where the sun hung low and lazy in the sky, refusing to set even as the hours stretched late.
The air was crisp, refreshing, and clean, but warm enough that a light sweater was all anyone needed.
Isabella sat on the edge of the large bed, her hands resting in her lap. The thick white wool sweater she wore felt soft against her skin, a stark contrast to the rough cotton shirt she had been wearing when Aaron pulled her out of Kian’s house.
A quiet knock sounded on the open door frame.
She turned her head slightly toward the sound, her hands tightening in her lap. "Yes?"
Footsteps crossed the hardwood, steady and deliberate, stopping a few feet away from her.
The scent hit her a second later, dark tobacco, cedar, and a sharp, metallic note of expensive cologne.
It was a heavy, warm smell that seemed to fill up whatever room he walked into. Over the last two days, her brain had begun to recognize it before she even heard his voice.
"The car is waiting downstairs, Princess," Aaron said. His voice was a low, smooth rumble.
Isabella hesitated. She tilted her face up, her cloudy eyes aiming blindly in the direction of his voice.
"Aaron... I told you, I don’t need to go out. You could just have someone bring a few basic clothes here. It doesn’t matter what I wear. I can’t see it anyway."
"I know you can’t," Aaron replied smoothly. "Which is why I’m going to choose for you."
Isabella frowned, her dark eyebrows knitting together. "I don’t trust your taste."
Aaron let out a short, quiet laugh. "You should. My taste is immaculate. Besides, you’ve been cooped up in bedrooms for weeks. You’re coming with me."
"I don’t have to go anywhere," she murmured, trying to sound firm, though the edge of her voice lacked any real bite.
The truth was, she felt bound to him. He had pulled her out of Kian’s suffocating grip. He had paid for the doctors, cleared her fever, and put her up in a place where no one was screaming at her or locked behind iron doors.
She was deeply, overwhelmingly grateful.
But that gratitude was a terrifying thing. It meant she couldn’t just tell him no. It meant she was caught in his orbit, constantly aware that the man standing in front of her was a dangerous predator who had simply decided, to protect her instead of destroy her.
He moved closer. She felt the sudden shift in the air, the warmth of his body stepping into her personal space.
"You’re overthinking again," Aaron murmured, reaching down.
Before she could pull back, his long fingers brushed against her shoulder, sliding a light jacket over her arms.
His hand lingered on the curve of her collarbone for a second longer than necessary.
His thumb gave a small, slow rub against the fabric of her sweater before he pulled back to zip the front.
Isabella’s breath hitched in her throat. Her heart gave a sudden, hard thud against her ribs.
She hated how close he got, but her nose involuntarily took in a deep breath of his coat, catching that deep, smoky scent again. It made her stomach flip in a way that made her furious with herself.
"Stand up," he commanded gently.
Isabella pushed herself off the bed, letting him guide her by the elbow out of the suite and toward the private elevator.
The small coastal town near the resort was quiet, built with colorful wooden shops lining cobblestone streets that sloped down toward a calm, dark blue bay. The afternoon sun cast long, golden shadows across the pavement.
The black town car pulled up smoothly against the curb in front of a high-end boutique.
As soon as the driver opened the door, a series of rapid, sharp clicks sounded from across the street. The light, mechanical shuttering of cameras cut through the quiet summer air.
Isabella froze on the leather seat, her fingers instinctively digging into the upholstery. "What is that?"
Aaron stepped out first, extending his hand to her. "Nothing for you to worry about."
She reached out, her small, pale hand disappearing inside his wide, warm palm. He pulled her out gracefully, tucking her hand securely against his side.
Across the road, two men with long camera lenses were crouching behind a parked van, taking photo after photo of Aaron Kazarov holding the blind heiress close to his side as they walked into the store.
Aaron didn’t look at the photographers. He didn’t order his men to smash the cameras.
He simply let a faint, cold curve touch his lips as he guided Isabella inside, letting the heavy glass door swing shut behind them, cutting off the sound of the street.
The air inside the boutique smelled like fresh lavender and high-end leather.
A saleswoman rushed forward, her eyes wide as she took in Aaron’s tall, imposing frame and the small, pale girl leaning against his arm. "Good afternoon, sir. How can we help you today?"
"Clear the floor," Aaron said flatly, not even looking at the woman. "We need a few hours."
The woman bowed her head quickly, hurrying off to lock the front door and pull the shades down over the windows.
Isabella let out a soft huff, pulling her hand back from his arm. "You really can’t do anything normally, can you?"
"Why would I be normal when I can have the store to myself?" Aaron replied, taking her by the wrist and guiding her toward a rack of dresses. "Now, let’s see what we’re working with."
He began sliding hangers across the brass rail, the metallic ringing filling the quiet shop. He picked out a soft sage-green linen dress and held it up against her frame.