She detested this trip. There was nothing remotely fun about shopping and if she never did it again, she would be quite happy.

“Can I help you?” Alain asked, hurrying over.

He moved close. Too close. Right into her personal space. She found it difficult to control the venom. She glanced up at Trap for guidance. He didn’t look at her, but he caught her arm and pulled her in close, away from the clerk.

“My girl needs shoes. She wears a size five. I’d like to take a look at those ruby boots, the lace-up ones with the heels, those two pairs of heels.” He indicated a black pair with red soles and a red pair with black soles. The red pair had a small black bow on the toe and straps that ran up the ankle, the black peeking around the red. “Also a pair of hiking boots and walking and running shoes. And” – Trap paused until he got the clerk’s full attention – “you can stop ogling my woman. You deal with me. You talk only to me, and you don’t touch her. I’ll try the shoes on her feet. You got that?”

His voice was low. Dangerous. So dangerous, the tone sent another shiver down her spine. Still, the venom retreated. She didn’t have to protect herself from a slimy man who couldn’t control his lust when a female customer came into his store. Alain took one look at Trap’s face with the lines of rough carved deep, then his gaze jumped to the two men on either side of the door, not hiding what they were. He nodded over and over and turned to scurry into the back room.

“Sit there, Cayenne,” Trap said. He gestured toward the seat farthest from the windows and doors.

She sank into the chair and Trap knelt at her feet. He removed the boot with the paper inside and rubbed his large hand over her foot.

“You’ll need stockings as well.”

“I don’t need the heels,” she whispered, glancing toward Draden and Gino. “I don’t go anywhere I could wear them. Just the hiking boots and running shoes.”

I like heels, and I’m going to like them on you. You can wear them for me when we’re alone. Later, you’ll need them.

Need them for what? She wasn’t going to ask. She was done asking questions. She didn’t understand what he meant, but it didn’t matter, because she was never going to repeat this experience again if she could help it. She just wanted it over with. She wasn’t going to protest again. In fact, she was going to sit quietly, endure the torture, and the moment she was back in her home, she was going to her little cave, surrounded by her webs and curl up and just be alone where she could breathe. And that would be after she kicked Trap very hard in the shins.

His hands were warm on her feet, his fingers massaging her calves and heel while they waited. Trap was such a mixture of contradictions that she felt confused, unable to read him. He looked cold. He felt cold. But his touch was completely at odds with both those things.

She didn’t look at him. She didn’t look at the two men standing on either side of the door. She kept her gaze fixed on the plate glass window, looking across the street to the man fitting a zoom lens to his camera. He seemed excited. Very excited. His gaze hadn’t left the shop since they’d gone in it, and she watched him as often as possible.

Alain returned with boxes of shoes and set them down beside Trap. “I didn’t realize who you were, Mr. Dawkins. It’s an honor to have you in my store.”

“Doctor Dawkins,” Trap corrected, without looking at the man. “And put your cell phone away. You take a picture of my woman or me, one of my men will remove your cell phone from you. If you’ve already taken a photograph without my consent or knowledge, you’d better delete it now, because if I see that shit on the Internet, or in a magazine, my men will come back to your store and fuck you up. Do we understand each other?” Trap turned his head and met the clerk’s eyes.

Alain stumbled back, his face losing color. “You don’t understand. You come into my store and I get a photo, I can advertise big with that. Makes me exclusive.”

“You snuck a picture from the back room?” Trap’s voice was mild. His hands continued to open boxes and pull out heels even as the room seemed to go down in temperature and an icy menace invaded.

He slipped the black heel onto Cayenne’s foot, over the small little nylon socks Alain had tossed down with the boxes. The shoe fit like a glove. There was a small silence. The tension in the room increased. Draden stirred, and Alain’s gaze jumped to him. Trap put the second shoe on Cayenne and held out his hand as he got to his feet.

Alain whipped out his cell phone. “I only got a picture of your back. It wasn’t a good angle,” he confessed hastily and showed it to Trap. “I’m deleting it now.” He continued to hold out his phone so all three men could see he’d removed the picture.

I take it you’re some big deal. Somebody worth photographing. She kept her voice neutral when she felt hurt all over again. He had known she didn’t want to shop for shoes or anything else. He also knew it was difficult for her not knowing what to expect. He still hadn’t made it easy by disclosing information to her. He hadn’t even told her that much – that he was known in the outside world.

She didn’t know why she considered the teams invisible for the most part – like she was. People who lived in the shadows. She needed to rethink giving herself to this man. She didn’t know him. She’d let herself be carried away by the way he’d treated her, the kindness and of course, the way he made her feel physically and emotionally. No one had ever really seen her until he had, but that didn’t mean she knew him. He certainly didn’t know her.

Still, she squared her shoulders as she stood up in the high heels; she was a warrior and no one could take that away from her. Not Whitney. Not Trap. Certainly not any enemy. What the hell? The shoes killed her sense of balance. She stood still, feeling them out. Finding the perfect way to stack her core over them so she could walk without falling. She let go of Trap’s hand, not looking at him. Not wanting to look at him. He’d put her in this position, and for reasons only he knew, he’d abandoned her.

She took a cautious step, trying to look as if she’d been wearing heels all of her life. She had a strong core and a good sense of balance. Once she’d calculated that with the way her foot was tilted, the height of the heel bordered right on the edge of her ability to keep from stumbling, she knew if she walked slow she could pull it off. If the heel had been one inch shorter, it would have been easier. Trap could do the calculations as easy as she could and he would have known that when he chose the heels.