Bound by law

Chapter 38:More Than Just Clothes

Estelle stood at the counter, staring wide-eyed as the pile of dresses, suits, and blouses was rung up. The price climbed higher and higher, until the total flashed on the register, and her stomach dropped. It was a number far beyond anything she had ever spent on clothes—maybe even her rent.

Her jaw practically hit the floor. "Uhm, Celeste... I—" she stammered, her heart pounding. "I can't pay for this. This is... I don't have that kind of money. Let's just go to the store next to campus or something. I can afford that. This is crazy."

Celeste turned to her, one eyebrow raised and a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "Shut your mouth, Estelle, you're going to catch a fly," she said smoothly. "I know you can't afford this. That's why I brought you here. I'm paying."

Estelle's eyes widened even more. "What? No, you can't do that," she protested, her voice rising in panic. "I can't let you—"

But before she could even finish her sentence, Celeste had already handed her card to the woman behind the counter. "It's done," Celeste said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. "I already did."

The cashier swiped the card and handed it back to Celeste with a polite smile, clearly unfazed by the exchange, but Estelle felt like the ground had just been pulled out from under her. "But no, I can't—" she started again, feeling completely overwhelmed.

Celeste turned to her, cutting her off with a single look. "You work for me now, Estelle. Your appearance reflects on me. I won't have you walking into court looking anything less than perfect. Understand?"

Estelle opened her mouth to argue, but the words died in her throat. The look in Celeste's eyes was unyielding, commanding, and Estelle knew there was no point in protesting. She nodded reluctantly, her stomach still in knots as the cashier handed them their purchases.

After gathering the bags of clothes, Estelle followed Celeste out of the store in a daze, her mind still reeling from the sheer absurdity of the situation. She wasn't used to people—especially people like Celeste—buying things for her, especially not expensive clothes like this.

But just as they approached Celeste's sleek black car, Estelle thought she might finally be able to breathe when Celeste turned to her, that same sharp smirk playing on her lips. "We're not done yet."

Estelle blinked, confused. "What do you mean, not done? We just spent—"

"We still need heels, bags, and a few more essentials," Celeste said, cutting her off. "Chop chop."

"Celeste, that's not necessary," Estelle tried to argue, her voice tinged with frustration. "I have shoes. I have bags. I don't need all of this."

But Celeste wasn't listening. She was already moving toward the next high-end boutique down the street, and Estelle had no choice but to follow, feeling increasingly out of her depth. She jogged slightly to catch up, trying to keep her voice steady. "Seriously, this is too much. You don't have to—"

"I'm aware of what I'm doing, Estelle," Celeste said, her tone clipped, as though she was speaking to someone who simply didn't understand how things worked. "You're working for me now, and I won't have my intern looking anything less than perfect. If you want to argue, feel free. But it won't change the outcome."

Estelle felt a wave of frustration and helplessness crash over her. She wanted to push back, to tell Celeste this wasn't how things worked, but the intensity in Celeste's gaze silenced her. It wasn't just about the clothes or the money. It was about the control—about Celeste making it clear, once again, that Estelle was under her influence, whether she liked it or not.

With a resigned sigh, Estelle followed Celeste into the next store. This one was even more opulent than the last, the polished floors and glittering displays making her feel even more out of place. She watched as Celeste approached another sales assistant with the same no-nonsense authority she always carried.

"We need heels," Celeste said, her voice cool and commanding. "A few pairs. Black, nude, and something for evenings."

The sales assistant nodded quickly, clearly eager to comply, and within moments, Estelle found herself seated in front of a towering stack of shoes. It felt like a surreal blur—slipping on designer heels, walking a few steps in front of Celeste while she watched critically, nodding or shaking her head as though every decision was life or death.

By the time they had gone through a half-dozen pairs of shoes, Estelle's head was spinning. She couldn't focus on anything other than the growing knot of discomfort in her stomach—the feeling of being swept along in Celeste's world, where everything was decided for her. Where she had no say.

After another round of bags and accessories—each one chosen by Celeste with the same decisive authority—they finally left the store, and Estelle could hardly believe how much they were carrying. It was enough for an entire wardrobe makeover—every detail chosen with Celeste's exacting standards in mind.

As they walked back to the car, Estelle's frustration finally boiled over. "Celeste, this is insane," she said, her voice rising slightly. "You can't just—"

Celeste stopped walking and turned to face her, her eyes narrowing slightly. "I can and I did," she said, her voice calm but with a razor-sharp edge. "You need to understand something, Estelle. When you work for me, you follow my lead. I expect you to dress the part, to act the part. I don't have time for arguments."

Estelle stared at her, her chest heaving with frustration. "But this isn't just about clothes, is it?" she muttered, her voice softer now. "It's about control."

Celeste's smirk returned, but there was something darker in her gaze this time—something that sent a shiver down Estelle's spine. "You're catching on," Celeste said softly. "Good."

With that, Celeste turned and opened the door to her car, motioning for Estelle to get in. Estelle hesitated for just a moment, the weight of everything crashing down on her, before she finally slid into the passenger seat, her heart still racing.

As the car pulled away from the boutique, Estelle glanced over at Celeste, the tension between them palpable in the quiet of the vehicle.

She was trapped in Celeste's world now, and no matter how hard she tried to resist, she knew one thing for sure:

She wasn't getting out.