Mine! (m x b)

Chapter Ten: Passion For Fashion ((Updated 2023))

☆☆Whats your favorite book series you've read recently? Mine is the Darkmourn Universe by Ben Alderson. I can't wait for the final installment to come out!☆☆

Camden

"Alright, it's seven thirty. Wakey wakey."

I groaned and pressed my face into the pillow. "Too early!"

"No, it is not. Any self-respecting human would be up by now."

I groaned and rolled over to avoid the windows steadily letting sunlight into the room. "Can you make me coffee?" I yawned. "I want to drink it in bed."

He scowled at me but left the room. I heard the sound of buttons pressing, aggressive shaking, and a deep growl that froze me in place, fear and lust brewing inside of me.

"All you have to do is ask Alexa to start the coffee!" I shouted at him.

There was silence, then a soft murmur, and lastly, the sweet, sweet sound of coffee spewing into a mug.

I sighed and rolled over to grab my leg, pulling the charger out of it. I attached it to my stump and walked into the closet to pull out some nicer-looking clothes.

A preppy sweater and some nice pants should do fine. I dressed as well as I could without aggravating the wound on my arm and brushed my hair, put on a spritz or two of perfume, and deodorant.

Alistair was heavily focused on whatever he was making in the oven, his broad back and shoulders facing me. I fought the drool threatening to spill from my mouth and sat down at the table. The noise alerted Alistair as he handed me my mug and a jug of coffee creamer.

"Thank you. What are you making?"

"Omelets. With bacon."

I groaned in delight. "You're a mind reader! Is it because you're a vampire?" I added quickly at the end.

He turned with a raised brow and threatened me with the spatula.

"Quit it with that vampire stuff. They're not real."

"Who says? No one can prove they aren't real, so who can say that they aren't?"

"What makes you so sure I am?" He asked, sitting across from me, plate in hand.

I shrugged. "Not sure." I took a slice of the omelet with the butter knife and raised it to my mouth with the fork. I felt sparks in my mouth at the divine, blessed omelet on my plate.

"What were you before your accident? A Michelin star chef?"

He laughed. "No. I'm just French."

"I'm partially French too, I can't cook for shit. What's the secret?"

He gave me a look before saying something unintelligible to my ears.

"I didn't learn French. Kinda lost that opportunity when my dad died."

"You could still learn French. There are plenty of good teachers."

"Are you offering, professor?" I asked jokingly. He bit the inside of his cheek and his eyes darkened. "It was just a joke, calm down." I started eating my omelet again. "Are you not going to eat?"

"I ate earlier." He said way too fast to be true. Add that to the list.

"Uh-huh." I took a swig of my coffee and polished off the omelet before standing and taking my dishes to the sink.

"That's my job." He snatched them from my hands and placed them in the sink himself, rinsing them and organizing them in the dishwasher.

I gave him a droll stare. "I've got another job for you. Can you drive?"

"Of course. Who in this day and age can't?"

"Good. You're driving me to the mall today, I don't feel like driving. You can pick the car."

I gave him the three sets of keys to the two cars my father left behind, as well as one that was gifted to me from Clyde and Lyla, an auto-pilot car that helped when my leg suddenly lost power.

He narrowed his eyebrows at the choices. "These are all luxury cars."

"I'm rich. Now pick one."

"You're okay with me driving a Rolls-Royce?"

"If you want to."

Alistair nodded as if he didn't believe me. "How does a kid like you have insurance?"

"Really good money and even better lawyers. Let's go."

He grabbed the keys to the Rolls-Royce and followed me to the garage.

I got into the car and let Alistair buckle me in before he took the driver's seat and sped off.

"What mall are we going to,  exactly?" I looked up from scrolling past countless videos of cute cats and dogs on my phone. "Hanover Mall. It's off third street."

He seemed puzzled for a moment but then rolled his eyes. "Daddy must've left a big life insurance behind for you."

"And a company."

We fell into a comfortable silence again as he continued forward down the road, turning softly to the right to reach the valet services at the mall. He got out of his seat first then helped me out -- I suppose chivalry isn't dead after all -- before handing off the keys to the man.

We headed into the mall and I immediately dragged him to a lesser-known favorite designer of mine.

I greeted the workers and asked for Alistair to get fitted while I perused the store, picking out materials and colors that suited his looks and my taste. I laid them down on the counter and asked them to make his shirts and pants and paid, settling down on a cozy bench and checking my emails.

He looked so angry it was funny, seeing his handsome face twist up in utter distaste.

"You needed new clothes, Ali. Don't be upset." I pouted at him. "Will you be happy if I buy you lunch?"

                         𓆩♱𓆪

His steak tartare did not make him happy. He ate it because I paid forty dollars for it and he didn't want it to go to waste. I ordered myself some wagyu steaks with truffle butter as we were softly serenaded by a man with a cello.

"I didn't know malls had places like this."

I shrugged, chewing, then swallowing. "It's more of an upscale mall than a run-of-the-mill mall."

He seemed truly amazed by the restaurant, glancing at every corner and every crevice for what I would call gaudy decor, golden chandeliers, white painted walls with abstract paintings, and a glass fountain.

"It's very...ornamental?"

I snorted at that, my mind filling with images of past Christmas parties I've been a guest of by proxy of my parents or Clyde and Lyla, with the rich people with their noses so high in the air their necks seemed to be broken, demanding everything be coated in gold. Complaining about their workers who did so much for them if they were without, they would be as lost as a little gazelle in a pride of lions, whining about this and that, screaming over politics and the latest handbag that 'omg you simply must buy!' Or fantasizing over the way too young models and popstars and--

"Camden?"

I shook out of my memory and realized Alistair was staring at me with a strange look and the waiter standing next to me with the check.

"I'm sorry about that," I breathed, accepting the pen and receipt from the waiter and tipped an extra thirty dollars on top his twenty-five percent tip because I felt bad about him standing there so long.

"Are you okay, Camden? You seemed really out of it."

"I'm fine, I was just thinking to myself." I laughed it off as my phone rang. I gave him the 'one minute' finger and took the call, smiling when it ended. "Your clothes are done! Let's go pick them up."