Beneath This Man(106)

My eyes are immediately blessed with masses of drool worthy handbags, but I'm not given the opportunity to look. He walks with purpose and meaning as he drags me along behind him and when we get in the elevator, he presses the button for the first floor. I scan the store guide.

'Hey, I want the fourth floor.' I would like to avoid the international collections of the first floor. They scream expensive, but he completely ignores me. 'Jesse?' I look at him and find his face is completely impassive as he keeps a firm grip of my hand. The elevator door opens and I'm pulled out behind him.

'This way.' he says, pulling me through the incredible displays of designer clothes and couture gowns. I'm glad he's bypassing those.

Oh no!

My heart sinks when I spot the sign for Personal Shopping. 'No, Jesse, no no no,' I try to stop him, but he presses forward, pulling me towards the entrance of the department. 'Jesse, please.' I plead, but again, he completely ignores me.

I want to kick him in the shins. I hate fuss and attention in stores. They kiss your arse and tell you everything looks fabulous and the whole thing makes you feel like you have to buy something. The pressure will be immense, and I dare not even think about the cost.

'I have an appointment with Zoe.' he advises the smart, suited and booted chap who greets us. Why did he ask me where we were heading if he already knew? I want to wring his neck.

'Mr Ward?' The assistant asks.

'Yes.' Jesse says, still refusing to look at me, even though he knows damn well I'm scowling heavily at him and I'm mighty uncomfortable with this.

'Please, this way. Can I get you any drinks? Champagne, perhaps?' he asks politely.

Jesse looks at me, and I shake my head. I want to cut and run straight to House of Fraser, where I can shop in peace with a can of coke and with minimum fuss.

'No, thank you.' Jesse replies. The young man leads us into a luxurious private area and Jesse pulls me over to a big, leather sofa. I sit down next to him and pull my hand out of his. This is quite possibly my worst nightmare.

'What's up?' he asks as he makes a grab for my hand again.

I look at him accusingly. 'Why did you ask me where I wanted to go if you'd already made an appointment?'

He shrugs. 'I don't understand why you would want to trail around a dozen stores when you can have everything brought to you here.'

He really doesn't understand? He's a man. What did I expect? 'Is this how you shop?' I ask. He must have more money than sense. I'm getting sweatier by the second.

'Yes, and I pay for the privilege so just humour me, will you?' he says shortly.

I look at him, completely stunned, but before I have a chance to retaliate, a young blonde haired girl appears and beams at Jesse. She's pretty and kitted out in a Ralph Lauren cream suit.

'Jesse!' she sings at him. 'How are you? He gets up and she kisses him continental style. I assume they are familiar by their exchange. How often does he come here?

'Zoe. I'm good. You?' He smiles at her. It's one of them knock out smiles - the one that reduces women to a mass of hormones at his feet.

'Great, this must be Ava. It's a pleasure to meet you.' She puts her hand out to me, and I stand to take it, offering a small smile. She's friendly enough, but I'm still not comfortable here. She sits in the chair opposite us. 'So, Ava, Jesse tells me we're looking for something special for an important party.' she says excitedly. Something special sounds like it's going to have a special price tag too.

'Something very special.' Jesse reiterates as he pulls be back down to the couch. I suddenly feel like I'm overheating, and I'm all claustrophobic in this massive room.

'Okay, what's your style, Ava? Give me an idea of what you like.' She places her hands in her lap and looks at me expectedly.

I don't know what my style is. If I like something and I feel good in it, I buy it. I can't categorise my style. 'I don't have a style really.' I shrug, and her eyes light up. That must have been a good answer.

'Lots of dresses,' Jesse interrupts. 'She likes dresses.'

'You like dresses.' I mutter, earning myself a nudge of his knee.

She smiles, revealing a perfect set of Hollywood, too white teeth. 'You're about a ten, yes?'

'Yes.' I confirm.

'Not too short.' Jesse spits quickly.

I look at him with my mouth agape. This is what I knew would happen. I'm not generally a short dress person, but he's turning me into one with his caveman attitude.