The soft whoop whoops of helicopter blades jerked Elodie upright in bed, her muddled mind trying to process what she was hearing.

Her whole body ached like she'd worked out every muscles as she climbed out of the bed. The carpeted floor was warm underneath her feet, giving her enough awareness to fully open her eyes.

The short walk to the window was a short one, and she was just in time to see the large helicopter disappear behind the tall trees in front of the house.

A car, an unfamiliar one, was sitting in the driveway, and there was no one else in sight.

Elodie must have fallen asleep for real after Bones and Rocco made their exit with Angelo's promise to meet with them in his study.

When he'd taken her to bed, she'd been too tired to follow him in order to glean more information about his meeting with Vasily Medvedev.

Suddenly awake, Elodie hurried to the bedside table where her purse laid, and took out her phone. She already had a missed call from an unknown number, although something told her that she knew this person really well.

She dialed the number.

"Ms. Evans," came Brooks voice after the first ring. "I'm yet to hear anything from you."

Elodie hurried over to the first door to her right, glad to see that it's the bathroom. Then, she locked it, and went to the shower to open all the taps. She hoped it was loud enough to muffle her words, or she was fucked.

"Brooks, I told you not to call me unless I called," she hissed into the phone, settling her back against the clean proclein sink.

"The higher-ups needs something to believe we haven't been compromised," he hissed right back.

Elodie frowned. "Do you know the danger I would be in if the phone gets picked up by the wrong person?"

Brooks sigh was one of defeat. "Okay, fine. I won't do it again. So, do you have anything yet?"

"Two of Angelo's men came around yesterday."

Elodie heard the crinkle of paper as if Brooks was opening a book to jot down in. "Their names?"

"Rocco and Bones."

"Hmm," Brooks hummed. "Rocco is Casieri's consigilere, and Bones is one of his Caporegime. Who else have you met?"

Elodie searched her memories. "A guy called Eyes, although I am yet to see him in London."

"Okay." More sounds of crinkling paper, then, "what did they discuss?"

"Vasily Medvedev is the seller of the Tsar Bomba."

Brooks sharp breath intake echoed down the line. "What?"

"Rocco said he is the seller, and is requesting for a meeting with Angelo first." Elodie glanced at the locked door, then back at the white tiled walls. "And before you ask, no, I don't know where because he stopped them before they could reveal the location."

"And where were they discussing this?"

The tips of her ears heated when she remembered just how naked she'd been when they came around. "I've got to go now."

A slight pause. "Okay. Try to see if you can find out where and get back to me."

"Okay."

Elodie hung up, then dialed Jean's number. Then, she remembered the eight hour difference and hung up. She opted to drop a message instead.

Elodie: Call me when you
wake up.

"Ms. Evans," Hana called out softly from the other side of the door, rapping her knuckles softly on the wood.

Elodie stashed her phone in the cabinet underneath the basin, then went to open the door.

Hana was dressed in a brown pencil skirt and an off-the-shoulder cotton pink top. Her eyes were enhanced by the false lashes that she batted with great effect.

"Oh," she breathed softly, eyes widening as they traced Elodie's face before dropping below her neck.

Elodie's face became tinted with color when she remembered her own state of undress. But, she pretended not to be bothered by it, leaning her aching body against the doorframe.

Hana's gaze returned to her face, mouth pursed into a little pout. "You...there's..." She cleared her throat. "Mr. Casieri told me to take you shopping for some clothes in London."

The news had her straightening. "Where's Angelo?"

"He left for an urgent business."

Oh, so he'd given her the slip?

He was probably going to meet Vasily, and left before she woke to avoid questions.

Brooks was going to be disappointed.

Hana's gaze roamed all over her face again.

"Do I have something on my face?"

The other woman's mouth kicked up at the corners as she retreated. "Let's  just say that thank God concealers exists. I'll be waiting in the car."

Elodie shut the bathroom door and rushed to the mirror above the sink. She sucked in a sharp breath at what she saw.

Her right eye had a large circle under it—probably from her fall after Angelo grabbed her ankle— there was a faint, fading print of his fingers on her jaw, and her neck...

Elodie pressed a finger down on one of the many purple bruises was scattered all over her collarbones, the tops of her breasts, and her inner thighs.

Angelo had marked her like a fucking neanderthal—no, like a fucking dog.

Hana's wide-eyed stare was umderstandable now.

There was no way she was going to wear any of her dresses until they faded.

She'd have a word or two with Angelo when next they met.

With an angry huff, Elodie stomped to the shower wash away the lingering smell of their coitus.

*

The driver from the day before took Elodie and Hana to Harrods, then promised to be on standby before driving off.

She'd heard so much about this place and how it was like the Bar Harbor Mall of the US.

"So," Elodie began as they walked together to the lift. "What are we shopping for?"

"He mentioned some summer dresses, beach wears, cocktail dresses, shoes, tights and stretchy tops, and a new pair of outdoor boots."

Elodie nodded. The man was through.

"Do you want to get coffee or tea before we begin?"

She shook her head. "Let's go."

Should she feel bad for accepting his gifts? Elodie wasn't sure. But she wasn't about to refuse it either.

Anything she didn't wear, she'd give them to Jean. Or she could just do more shopping for Jean as well.

Hana called the lift and turned to her. "Do you have any specific shops you want to visit or are you leaving it to me?"

"You dress like a dream, so you decide."

Hana flushed with pride, smiling as they rode the elevator to the lower ground floor.

Their first stop was the Clé de Peau Beauté. Hana guided her towards one of the many cosmetic counters.

"She's a genius. She can make even the worst of skin breaks smooth, so just listen to everything she says," Hana said, gesturing to the sweet-faced young woman called Maisie.

Elodie was lead to a high stool, given a hand mirror and taught how to make the best of her make-up. Again.

Boss had hired people to do that when she newly joined the Agency, but Hana looked like she was having fun, so she played along.

Maisie didn't even bat an eyelid when Elodie's bruise came into view after they wiped off the concealer she'd applied with heavy hand.

Between them, they covered it up again, and it was better than before.

"Have you ever used waterproof mascara?" Hana asked smoothly.

Elodie recalled that this woman had seen her with smudged mascara that one time she'd slept on the yatch alone. She had been dying to say something about it ever since, it would seem.

After Elodie told her she hadn't, she was given three tubes of it. Together, the three of them chose seven different shades of lipstick, several eyeliners (sparkly and non-sparkly), and cream blushers.

"Now to the perfume department," directed Hana. "We can get your own customized fragrance."

Le Parfum Sur Mesure was located on the sixth floor along with several other stores like Bond no.9, and Henry Jacques.

Thierry Wasserman, the in-house perfumer, met them in the wait area, and led them over to his work station where he created Elodie's signature perfume with Orris Butter.

The fresh, woody yet delicately floral scent—smell that was a combination of powdery, woody and violet notes—lingered on her, even as they rode the elevator back to the first floor. Elodie had requested that the Thierry make another bottle for Jean.

There, they picked up several blouses and trousers.

They walked out of the side entrance of Harrods on the east side and entered Rigby and Peller. Hana had managed to make a fitting appointment between their shopping in Harrods.

The woman who led Elodie into the changing room was an older woman with permed white hair and soft hands.

"Most women don't know the right bra size and shape," she explained, and made Elodie bend over while she fitted her with a bra.

It also turned out Elodie was one of those women, because she'd been using 32B when she was 34A. The designs Elodie chose made her feel all warm and feminine inside.

Hana paid for the purchases with the same black card she'd been flashing around for everything they'd bought so far.

"Now," Hana wiggled her brows, "let's go get the goodstuff."

Elodie eyed the card. "And just how much is the budget?"

"Actually, Mr. Casieri didn't set a limit." She winked. "So, we make the most of it, eh?"

They walked around the back of Harrods and head down Old Brompton Road. Hana was familiar with any and everything: the roads of London, to whatever was in Vogue and what was trending, celebrities making faux pas', where to get the second-best thing for good prices.

They had a stop over in Chanel, where a beautiful black and silver handbag and a bright pink clutch beddazled with rhinestones were presented to Elodie.

"They're to die for," Hana said.

"It's a limited edition," explained the smooth-faced assistant helpfully, mega-watt smile never wavering.

"I'll take it," Elodie agreed, dazzled by the price tags.

She stood by the counter while Hana paid and wondered about the type of reception she'd receive if she came here alone.

"Onward we go," Hana said, grinning wildly.

Then, they went into YSL.

Elodie had always watched the brands on TV commercials, seen them on the pretentious and wealthiest of Sunset Bay, and never had she dreamed that she'd be going into their departments to get what she wanted.

Hana didn't bother suggesting anything, she only told Elodie to 'choose'.

Everything was beautiful and they dazzled. It took a while for Elodie to finally settle on the black leather interlaced with gold chain straps, and a natural sand and brick colored bag 
with a flap and pivoting metal fastening, featuring contrasting trims and lining.

When they went to the counter, Hana told the assistant, "we'll have the first one in a shade of pink and the other one in white too."

"That's over fourteen thousand pounds!"

"We have no limit, remember?" Hana raised a brow. "Besides, you need bags in different shades, too. Especially pink ones. Or what else would you carry if you wear white or black?"

Elodie was speechless and could only watch as Hana called their driver to come and pick the shopping bags they'd amassed so far.

She was in a daze when they visited other department stores where some of the assistants recognized Hana immediately.

"I've been here a few times," Hana said dismissively. "I used to work with high class clients and some celebrities who'd always visited London for the Harrods experience."

They bought a black and gold suit with sleek lapels, a winter white cocktail dress, viridian green jumpsuit, a swarovski studded evening gown, a polka dot sequined embellished chiffon dress, and a sky-blue capri pants with sleeveless signature top from Prada.

Hana decided that she would need shoes for the trousers, dainty red bottomed, diamond-studded stilettos, two flesh-colored sandals with low heels, ankle-length brown boots, and multi-colored, ultra fashionable platforms.

"Okay. We have just one last store to visit, and we can bring our shopping spree to an end. We're going to Versace. They have something good this season."

That something good turned out to be an electric blue silk shirt and skin-tight leather gray trousers.

"You look smashing," Hana said, rubbing her hands together. "I just knew something perfect would be waiting for you here." She glanced at her watch. "You can't be in England and not go for a cup of tea, you know? When in Rome and all that..."

After the driver came to collect the bags, Hana led them to a tea shop filled with mostly women and they ordered cream tea, and two buttered cream and jam scone.

Elodie bit into the deliciousness hungrily. Shopping took it out of her.

To think there were people who did it for a living.

She caught Hana watching her with an unreadable expression.

"Do you do this for Angelo often?" Elodie asked.

"To be honest, Mr. Casieri has only employed me once to dress his date back in Italy. Besides that, I've never heard of him keeping a woman around long enough to do something like this. I was intrigued when he reached out to me offering to fly me out in his private jet if I accepted; not to mention the outrageous amount of money he's paying me." She paused to sip her tea."I also thought you were one of those pompous types, but you've surprised me so far."

Elodie couldn't stop her smile even if she wanted to. "Thank you for accepting, Hana."

The other woman beamed. "It's my pleasure."

After their tea, they were picked up by the driver and taken to a saloon in Covent Garden that belonged to the top hairstylist in the country. At the reception, Elodie was given a twenty point questionnaire about how she wanted her experience to be, and if she wanted Hana to come in with her or not.

After that, a girl with bright red hair led them into a private area where they were served two glasses of champagne on a tray.

"Go ahead," Hana urged softly. "You've earned it."

Elodie indulged, sighing when the chilled bubbly slid down her throat, cooling her heated system.

A few minutes later, the celebrity stylist himself appeared and her jaw dropped. He noisily air-kissed Hana on both cheeks, and gave Elodie the same treatment.

Then, he stood back to look at Elodie, tapping his bearded chin thoughtfully.

He tipped his head to the side slightly as he reached for the strands of her hair. Elodie was glad she'd worn it down.

"Oh," he exclaimed, rubbing it between his fingers. "Your hair is fine. You haven't bleached or permed if before, have you?"

"No." She paired her answer with a head shake.

"And you don't mind it if I dye it?"

Elodie widened her eyes. "As long as it's a flattering color."

"Come, come," he said, leading her to a single chair in front of a mirror and waiting while she sat. "We'll take a bit off the length, but we'll do something for this oval face."

Then, he picked up his scissors and combs, and got to work.

A/N:

Ladies, we all need pampering, don't we?

Even if we'd be Cinderella in designer land for a day😉.

What are our thoughts about this chapter?

Is Angelo truly meeting Vasily?

How many of you knew that Elodie would give Brooks information?

What do you think about it?

Do you think Brooks would do something with the information?

What do you think about the shopping spree?

Lastly, if you were given the opportunity to shop for a day, what designer brand are you going for?

Don't forget to vote, comment and share❤️