CAGED (#3, of Crows and Thorns)

Chapter 92

Penn's eyes flared wide and she clapped her hands across her mouth in horror, as she remembered belatedly who she'd snapped at. Lila Simonis was a member of the upper ranks, still was a member even if she'd returned from the prison in the Godsbane Forest and somehow ended up here, at the Emporium. Penn visibly cringed, dropping her hands to her sides and shifting her feet nervously. "I'm sorry, please forgive my rudeness."

Lila waved it away as if it were nothing to apologize for.

Guilt tasted terrible on my tongue that I'd caused Penn distress.

Mortified, Penn whirled around and helped the stylists finish packing up. Her spine was ramrod straight and she was trying to make out that she was fine, but I saw how hot she was, how uncomfortable I'd made her feel by nagging at her to change. She worked with trembling fingers and I heard a raw defeated sound coming from her when she fumbled clumsily with a large bottle of foundation.

The distinct sound of a ping had my attention sliding over to Lila who'd fished a cell phone out of somewhere on her figure. She scrolled through the message on her screen, a notch formed between her brows, and her mouth pursed thoughtfully. Glancing upward, she smiled with regret. "If you'll excuse me for a moment, I have something to attend to." She spoke with more authority to the stylists. "Leave this for later and come with me."

The pleated dress swung wide and rippled through the air as she spun around. The two stylists trailed her and shut the door behind them. It was just me and Penn left alone in the dressing room. "I'm sorry, Penn" I apologized. Rushing forward I snatched up a fan from the duchess and snapped it open. Blustering air flowed from the fan I was waving in front of Penn's face. If I was hot, even in this dress that was practically a negligee, she must be on the verge of fainting. "Sit down, and at the very least roll your sleeves up and undo some buttons on that shirt of yours." It was ridiculous to be wearing something that covered up every inch of her.

Penn sank down onto the stool and gave me a miserable look. She held up an arm. Liquid foundation in a pale hue had spilled over her fingers and dribbled in long lines beneath the cuff of her shirt. I gave her a look of commiseration before handing her the fan. Lifting up my skirts I strode to the steam trunk and yanked a dress from a hanger. The sound of shredding fabric filling the room was glorious as I ripped into the dress.

"That's a Balenciaga!" Penn gasped, pausing to beat the air with the fan.

I shrugged, with a wicked grin. "What's a hundred thousand dollars to the Crowthers? They can afford it." And then, just because it felt fucking great, I tore the dress right down the middle, ripping it a few more times until it was turned into scraps of material. "Here use this to soak up the spill," I said, handing a few strips of fabric to Penn and tossing the remaining scraps onto the dressing table beside her. She lifted her arm and began to wipe her wrist and fingers free from liquid gunk, before dabbing at the stained fabric, unbuttoning the cuff to get to the sticky mess beneath the sleeve. She was so busy concentrating on wiping her forearm clean that she wasn't aware I hovered close by and my gaze had sliced to the patch of skin above her wrist. She quickly finished her task, smoothing the sleeve back down, and whatever I'd just spotted disappeared from sight.