Sineka gawked at the impossible man. He only blinked back, taking a drag of his cigar.
"A-are you sure?" she decided to word it. "I would hate to take you away from your work."
Glancing at the clock, its hands ticking at 3:15 pm, he replied, "One day won't hurt anyone."
She could only scoff. The man who had prioritized his work so much, he forgot his wife was taking her shopping.
She voiced that thought, only to get glared at. "You don't have to, you know."
"You have five minutes to change or I am personally taking that top off and with much pleasure," and he simply walked away. She was left all alone, to open and close her lips like a fish.
True to his word, he came back in 5 minutes, just as she finished tucking the large shirt in her pants, somehow keeping it from drowning her. Without a word, he took her hand (her tiny hand was nearly lost in his big one) and dragged her downstairs and out of the mansion. A vintage (and pretty expensive) looking car was waiting for them, the driver bowed to greet Crocodile, who nodded back.
Crocodile opened the door of the car for her to slide in, which she did after stealing glances at the man, still not feeling right about taking his time. The door closed and the driver opened the door on the other side for his master to enter.
The short drive was very restless for Sineka. She had never even chosen her clothes from the pile her father bought for her, let alone purposely shopped for her clothes. She cringed. There was no way Crocodile would like to hear that.
"What would you like to shop for first? Do you have enough nightwear and lingerie?"
She rolled her lips in, she used to sleep in her underwear at the house. Her door locked and no one ever disturbed her at night anyway. And the pretty lingerie was not something she needed or ever had. Her stepmother selected her underwear for her and they were more functional than fetching.
He seemed to have sensed something as he let out a long smoky exhale.
"Let's start with daily wear, shall we?"
All she could do was nod.
Shopping was a tiring business, Sineka concluded. The only thing that made it bearable was that her husband knew when to stop and when to ask for her input. They took enough daily wear to last her for months and he asked her to change into formal wear to select the ones that suited her, it was a personal fashion show he organized for himself apparently.
She did not like shopping, even if it was her first time doing so. She especially hated changing into each of the outfits to show it to him. She was aware of her expression getting grumpier every time she changed and her suave husband seemed to be enjoying it.
By the time they left the shop with enough outfits to last a year, even if each month had a handful of events, she was cursing him in her mind quite loudly.
"It is not good manners to curse your husband, you know, sweetheart," he smoothly commented, not at all phased by her.
She scoffed. "Nor is it to torture your wife, darling," she snarled, making him chuckle. Yup, he was enjoying it just too much.
The next place he dragged her to was the one she dreaded the most. Lingerie shop. She was not sure where she should start from and it must be on her face, because the moment they entered the shop, Crocodile snapped his fingers. A saleswoman came out of nowhere.
"I would like you to take my wife with you and see that she is well taken care of."
Sineka did not understand what part of 'well taken care of' needed the measuring tape that the magic woman materialized from nothing. She also did not understand why she was dragged to the changing rooms.
However, moments later, she was shown an assortment of lace pieces that should not be scammed as panties, paired with equally racy bras. Her cheeks were on fire at the display and the realization that her husband was just beside her, looking at the same display.
"I would have made you give me a little fashion show here," he whispered in her ear, "but I think I should save it for a later date."
She suppressed a shiver. She had met the man just a few hours ago and he was already doing things to her body. Things that were scandalous and so sweet.
Her husband selected a few of the pieces, the colours similar to the palette she had chosen for her other clothes, and continued to ask for a few cotton underwear (which were selected in nude colours) and bathing suits (the sexiest ones were what made the cut for him), saying they can finally take some advantage of the pool at home.
All the while, his hand never stopped touching her in some way, as if promising things to her.
When the things were packed and shipped to his car, she was led to another shop.
"I think a few skincare products should do you good in this climate. Your skin looks pretty fragile to me."
It had to be a lie. She had never been the palest, even on the winter island she was born in. Favouring her mother's colouring, like in everything else, she had a very muted, medium-contrasting skin palette, which meant her palette differed from that of her half-siblings. It meant, she never had any redness in her skin, even when she blushed, her skin darkened and tanned. Her stepmother often commented how minimal care her skin must need.
But before she had the chance to speak, like in everything else, a skincare routine was made for her and even the makeup products were selected by assorting colours that complemented her skin the most. All the while, her husband just smirked at her, eyes hooded.
"Thank you," was all she could say sincerely.