My life before was just like my name, Haven. Everything was peaceful, everything went my way, and I had everything that I needed. If I wanted something, I'd have it in a snap. I didn't need to move, make an effort, or work for it. I just needed my d...
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CHAPTER 4: SHOPPING AND BLOODY STEAK
HAVEN'S POV
I eyed the small, black card Allessio was handing out to me. The part of me that I miss but have slowly forgotten because of everything that happened to me for the past year blinks its eyes as if it's been woken up from sleep.
Before my fingers could touch the credit card, he snatched it back, his eyes narrowing at me. "I don't like the look you have on your face. You look like a junkie being offered unlimited supplies of drugs."
My lips parted in shock but I quickly shut it close to glare at him. He still scares me, but being with him for hours is starting to transform my fear into something else. He's an infuriating person. So much so that people who work for him, like Fierro, must get paid a lot so they won't murder him in cold blood.
He's domineering and opinionated, and he seems to be the kind of person who always gets his way. In short, he's a lot like me before my life turned into shit.
Allessio tipped his head to the huge store boutique in front of us. "Go buy whatever you want, but be practical. Don't purchase the whole store. Just buy enough." He handed the card to Fierro. "Don't look at the price."
"That's hard to do." I pointed at the boutique in front of us. He brought me to a mall near Paris Le Bourget Airport, where we stopped for a five-hour layover before we headed to wherever he's planning to bring us. I don't know how but he managed to keep the boutique and the mall open even though it's past midnight. "That's an expensive store. If you want practicality, you should have brought me to Monoprix."
"Have you been here in Paris?" Fierro asked.
I shrugged. "My everyday life before consisted of just two things: thinking about what to buy next and shopping. Paris is a great place for it." I turned to Allessio before he could think of something to say. "You're probably right about me looking like a junkie. I love shopping. I love credit cards. But it's not like I'm planning to spend your money the way I spent money before."
"I just told you to buy whatever you want, didn't I? I told you to be practical because you can buy more when we land in Tuscany. I didn't say that you should look for a Parisian version of a dollar store."
"You said I look like an addict."
"You basically admitted that you're a junkie for shopping."
God, he's so annoying! "Which means you shouldn't let me shop."
"I didn't give you the credit card because that's like handing out cocaine to a recovering addict."
"But you still want me to shop to my heart's contents? That's the same thing."
"It's not. I gave the card to Fierro. That means I gave the drug to him and not you." He massaged his temple, and he said something in Italian that, of course, I didn't understand. "You need clothes. You're not here to shop for things you won't even look at twice because you have too many of them. You can't walk around with the clothes you own because, one, they are either too casual or too...much." Tumikhim siya. He's probably remembering my uniform. "Second, we threw away all your clothes."
