There Is No Devil Sinners Duet Book 2 By Sophie Lark-pdfread

“What do you want me to wear?” I ask Cole.
HE DRIVES us to Neiman Marcus on Geary Street. The venerable stone
building stands on the corner, its layers of glass display windows impossibly
chic and imposing even from a distance.
“Can’t we just go to Urban Outfitters or something?” I grumble.
Already I’m regretting the cooperative spirit that prompted me to climb in
Cole’s passenger seat. I don’t want to go in some stuffy store where the sales
ladies are sure to give me the kind of side-eye employed on Julia Roberts in
Pretty Woman. They can tell when you’re poor, when you don’t belong.
“Or better yet,” I say, “I can keep wearing your clothes.”
Cole let me borrow a pair of his old-money woolen trousers and a cashmere
sweater. He even punched a new hole halfway down one of his belts to keep
the pants up. It’s all way too big for me, but I like baggy clothing.
“Absolutely not,” Cole says. “That was a desperate measure. One we’re
about to rectify.”
Just walking through the doors makes me uncomfortable. We have to pass
under the glare of two security guards, entrusted with keeping the homeless
people out. I’d feel more relaxed in one of the many tents camped out in
Union Square. I’d rather smoke a blunt with one of those dudes than cringe
under the aggressive, “Good morning! What are you two shopping for
today?” from a lipsticked blonde brandishing a perfume bottle.
“Good morning,” Cole replies, coolly ignoring the rest of the question as he
sweeps past her, keeping his vice grip on my arm while he steers me onto the
steep escalator to the upper levels.
Compared to the crowded streets outside, the ladies’ department feels oddly
empty. I stare around at the pristine racks of clothing, organized by designer,
bright and rich and appealing, but unseen by anyone else. We’re alone up
here, except for a few scattered sales associates.