The Bed You Make
Chapter 19, concluded
“Hello.” A petite brunette in a raspberry St. John suit took a single glance at Dara that began at the attorney's head and made note of every inch along the way toward her feet. Without blinking, she noticed the simple emerald-colored Narciso slip dress Dara wore. The style, definitely Narciso Rodriguez, did not quite match anything in the mental Rolodex of designs that the woman carried about in her head – an observation that set off signals. “How may I help you?”
Dara gave the woman credit. From the moment they'd entered the exclusive little boutique, the other woman's attention had been fixed on Dara. Not once had she even glanced Stefan's way. “Shoes?” Dara asked.
The saleswoman glanced down at the stylish Jimmy Choos Dara wore. “Maurizio Pollini, Christian Louboutin, Louis Vuitton… all this way,” she gestured.
Dara nodded and followed the woman across the store. This was a saleswoman obviously experienced at her craft. Dara had seen the other woman size her up in just a glance or two. The shoe designers the saleswoman quoted were all high-priced enough to satisfy the quality of clothing Dara already wore, but were daring enough in their designs to appeal to that other side of Dara that she kept buttoned down. Oh, yes, this saleswoman was good.
~ * ~
Stefan took a seat about ten feet away from his wife. Dara had begun to peruse the little store's nonetheless impressive collection of shoe designers. Slipping off the shoes she wore, Dara tried on several different styles, rejecting one but nodding her approval of the others.
Stefan agreed completely with her choice to reject the first pair. Despite the shoes' undoubtedly pricey tag, they were awkwardly made and uncomfortable to wear. He would have said so, had Dara asked. Given her current mood, Stefan didn't think she would.
He was almost amused; he could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times he had been so totally ignored before. With the exception of directing him toward his seat, the saleswoman did not even glance his way. And Dara… well, she had deliberately ignored him from the moment they climbed into the limousine to travel to the discreet little shop.
Under other circumstances, he would have chalked up their impromptu shopping spree as merely the price he had to pay to soothe the ruffled feathers of his female companion. It was hardly his first experience dealing with an angry woman determined to take her anger out on his wallet. But this was different, Stefan reflected. Something about this excursion spoke of Dara's anger at herself.
Stefan wished he understood what his wife's anger was about.