Gemma’s POV
Monday crawled by with excruciating slowness despite my bone-deep exhaustion from working until the boutique closed yesterday. My body scread for rest, but my empty bank account had other plans. This retail job at Exquisite Boutique was slowly draining my soul, even with its decent commissions from the wealthy clientele who frequented our upscale location in Thorne family territory. New out of college with my business degree, I was trapped by my lack of connections and desperate need for survival money.
What made every shift unbearable was sharing workspace with Vanessa after I caught her on her knees servicing my ex-boyfriend Nick in our storage room. The image still burned in my mind like battery acid. She had turned the other girls against , poisoning the atmosphere until every workday felt like navigating a field of hidden knives.
That cursed night haunted my every waking mont. I had only stepped out for a quick food run since Mom was away on business. Nick, that bottom-feeder street thug, sotis lurked around closing ti, and I had been naive enough to trust him completely. When I returned early, Sabrina and Lia practically tackled , frantically trying to block my path to the back room. Their obvious terror should have been my warning.
I shoved past them and slamd on the storage room lights. There was Nick with his dirty fingers twisted in Vanessa’s bleached hair while she worked him with her mouth like so back-alley whore. My stomach nearly turned inside out. They were so lost in their pathetic betrayal that several heartbeats passed before they realized I was watching.
I began a slow, sarcastic clap. "Bravo, you two could make decent cash in the kind of videos they sell behind convenience stores." Then I walked out without another word, leaving my purse behind because I couldn’t stomach breathing the sa air as them for one more second.
Now Nick and Vanessa paraded their sordid relationship like a weapon designed specifically to slice open. Every public grope and whispered conversation felt calculated to maximize my humiliation.
I positioned myself near the entrance when two striking won paused at our window display. The sapphire dress I had arranged there this morning was already working its magic. I straightened my shoulders and approached with practiced professionalism.
"Good evening, ladies. Welco to Exquisite Boutique. I’m Gemma. What can I help you find tonight?" My smile felt authentic for the first ti in days.
"Hi Gemma, I’m Ivy and this is Zoe." The brunette radiated a warmth that imdiately put at ease, though sothing in her confident bearing suggested she was accustod to getting what she wanted. "That blue dress in the window caught my attention. Would it be possible to try it on?"
"Absolutely, it just arrived this morning and it’s absolutely stunning. Please, make yourselves comfortable while I get it for you." I guided them to our luxurious fitting area, already ntally selecting accessories that would complete the look flawlessly.
While Ivy changed, Zoe ntioned they were new to the neighborhood and Ivy needed sothing impressive for eting her new employer. When Ivy erged from the dressing room, even I gasped softly. The dress clung to her curves like liquid midnight, transforming her from beautiful to absolutely devastating.
"You look incredible," I whispered, aning every syllable. The sale practically closed itself as she added matching heels and delicate undergarnts to her purchase.
"We’ll definitely return, Gemma. You have impeccable taste." Ivy smiled warmly as I handed over their elegantly wrapped packages along with my business card.
After they departed, I grabbed my purse and announced to my less-than-beloved coworkers that I was taking my break. Grandmother’s birthday was approaching, and since neither of us could visit the other this year due to the dangerous state of the neighborhood, I needed to find the perfect gift for Mom to deliver.
The religious goods store tucked away in the mall’s forgotten corner carried unique handcrafted items that couldn’t be found elsewhere. A delicate door scapular with an engraved prayer imdiately caught my attention. The elderly saleswoman was explaining its spiritual significance when a commanding voice cut through our conversation.
"I need sothing for my mother." The man barely lifted his eyes from his phone, addressing the saleswoman as if I were invisible furniture.
"She’s currently helping ," I said coolly, irritation flaring instantly at his arrogance.
"Look, I don’t have all day to wander around shopping like so people apparently do. She’s the only worker here." His tone dripped condescension as he finally glanced up from his device.
My breath caught despite my anger. He was devastatingly handso in that dangerous way that made sensible won make foolish choices. Tall and powerfully built, with erald eyes and golden hair that looked like it had been crafted by angels. His perfectly tailored suit probably cost more than my yearly rent. Everything about him scread money, power, and the kind of arrogance that ca from never hearing the word no.
"Excuse ?" I couldn’t mask my disbelief at his audacity.
"She helps quickly, then returns to your little conversation. Simple logic." He spoke as if the solution was obvious to anyone possessing basic intelligence.
"Even if I had unlimited ti, which you’ve rudely assud, she was already assisting when you strutted in here acting like you own the entire building. That’s called basic human decency." I maintained steady eye contact, refusing to be intimidated by his imposing presence or obvious wealth.
"I’m not rude, I’m efficient. You’re browsing casually while I have actual responsibilities. If she had helped first, I’d be gone and you could resu your chat." His jaw tightened with obvious frustration at being challenged.
"Wow, you’re completely clueless about treating people with respect." I turned to the saleswoman, whose discomfort was written across her face. "I’ll take the scapular, please wrap it beautifully."
She nodded gratefully and hurried toward the register while he stared at us with incredulous fury.
"You’re seriously going to make wait?" His voice carried a dangerous edge that probably intimidated most people into submission.
"Keep playing with your phone and stop behaving like a spoiled brat. She’ll finish with in a mont, then you can purchase whatever guilt offering you had in mind." I threw him a triumphant look over my shoulder. "Maybe I’ll even leave a special ssage for your poor mother."
At the counter, a display of prayer cards gave a wickedly petty idea. I selected one with particular care, paid for my items, and wrote a brief note on the accompanying envelope. After requesting that the saleswoman give it to the arrogant stranger after I left, I walked away feeling absolutely victorious.
He was going to lose his mind when he read what I had written for his unfortunate mother.
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