Andrew holds his head high and advances with long, confident strides. He seems to enjoy all the attention they're receiving.

"Don't you think it's great?" he asks with pride.

"No, I don't think it's great," Avery mutters. "Don't you know that influential people are likely to be attacked in public places? A person like you must have a lot of enemies, and this shopping center leaves you exposed. Any sniper could get an easy shot at you."

Avery knows that an attack is unlikely—the bodyguards are mostly there to prevent her from escaping—but she wants to unsettle Andrew.

"What a joke!" Andrew scoffs. "But, I always imagined you wanted to shoot me with a submachine gun instead of a sniper rifle."

"You're not wrong," Avery snaps back. "Though you don't have many virtues, at least you know yourself well enough."

Avery looks around at the shops, selects a designer lingerie store, and drags Andrew toward the door. She knows that most men feel uncomfortable in lingerie shops, and she hopes Andrew will resist.

"Ruby asked me to buy her underwear. Are you coming in with me?" Avery says and flashes him a sour grin. "If you're too embarrassed, unlock the handcuffs, and I'll go in by myself."

Instead of unlocking the handcuffs, he enters the store, leaving her trailing in his wake. Andrew glances around the store and hooks a lacy pair of underwear with his index finger. "I'd like to see you in this later," he whispers.

Avery snatches the underwear out of his hands and puts it back on a hanger. "I'm afraid your heart couldn't stand it," she says. "As you know, I don't care if you die, but I'd like the heart to survive."

Andrew laughs loudly, and Avery catches several blushing shop assistants looking over at him. Once upon a time, she would have been attracted to Andrew too.

Now she fights the urge to stuff a pair of underwear in his mouth to smother his intolerable laughter. But he's so perverted, and he might actually enjoy it, she thinks.

"Stop laughing and help me pick something," she says.

It's essential that she buys something he likes, but she doesn't know where to begin. She browses racks of see-through lace and skimpy mesh. Andrew is such a playboy, and I bet there's nothing in this store he hasn't seen before, she thinks. What will arouse a man as jaded as him?

"I like this one," Andrew says, pointing at the lace underwear he showed her earlier.

Avery passes the underwear to the shopping assistant and nods at a matching bra.

"I want to buy one in each size," she tells the assistant.

The assistant nods.

"One in each size?" Andrew asks curiously. "Don't you know what size you are? Or do you think it'll be changing with the arrival of the baby?"

Andrew glances appraisingly at her body, measuring her with his eyes.

Avery thinks for a moment and turns back to the shop assistant.

"I changed my mind," she says. "I want ten in each size."

"Ten? Are you crazy?" Andrew asks.

"I'm going to give every woman in the mansion, including the servants, a set of underwear," she says. "Every woman beside me will be prepared to satisfy you at any time."

"What do you take me for?" Andrew asks amusedly. "Some sort of stallion?"

"You've said as much yourself," Avery replies.

She picks up a plain set of white cotton lingerie. "Do you like it?"

"It's too small for you," Andrew says.

Has he been with so many women, he can judge a woman's size with his eyes alone? She thinks, frowning.

Avery raises her chin toward a model at the back of the shop. She sees several sultry models in the store. She suspects they're there to try on underwear for potential customers. "Can you tell her measurements?" she asks Andrew.

"35/25/35," he says after a split second. "They're not as good as yours," he added with a wink.

Avery grabs a set of underwear that matches Andrew's guess and passes it to the model. When the model emerges from the changing room, Avery can't help but gasp. The sheer white lace clings tightly to her rear, and a small 'v' of fabric in front leaves little to the imagination. With each step, her tanned breasts bounce in the lacy bra.

The model slinks toward Andrew and puckers her thick lips. She winks a big brown eye at him. Avery knows the model would be all over Andrew if she weren't there. And suddenly, Avery has an idea. "Do you feel anything?" Avery asks.

"Do you want to feel it?" Andrew asks.

He grabs her handcuffed hand and presses it to the front of his jeans. Avery can't believe he's not hard. She snatches her hand away from him, causing the handcuffs to dig into her wrist. Then she beckons to the model. "I'll give you ten thousand dollars," she says. "Touch him and see his reaction."

Andrew smirks. The model smiles confusedly.

"I don't understand," the model says. "He's your boyfriend, right?"

"He's not my boyfriend. He's my prisoner," Avery replies. "Look at the handcuffs."

The model doesn't believe Avery; she's never seen a prisoner dressed in such high-end handmade clothes. The watch on his wrist alone has to be worth tens of millions. They definitely seem to belong to each other, and she wonders if the couple is playing some sort of kinky game.

"You're so naughty," Andrew says. He jerks the handcuffs and tries to hold Avery's hand, but Avery pinches his palm and dodges him.

"Come on," Avery says, smiling teasingly, "Just let her touch you. I want to see if a normal man can resist her charms."

"A normal man couldn't," Andrew says, looking behind Avery. "You really want to try?"

Avery nods. There's no way he'll be able to resist such a sexy woman, she thinks. Within a few minutes, he'll be desperate to get these handcuffs off so he can go fuck her in some dark corner. As soon as he's busy with her, I can make my escape.

"If you can get that man to react, I'll give you a million dollars," Andrew promises the model.

Avery looks over her shoulder to see who Andrew's talking about. She feels her blood run cold when she sees Evan strutting across the store. He's dressed in a three-piece suit and has a neatly folded silk pocket square in his jacket. Every woman in the store stares at him lustfully—no one can take their eyes off him.

Avery gazes blankly at the man walking toward her, and she begins to feel dizzy. The exclamations and admiration of the shop girls fade away, and the air seems to leave the room. Suddenly, a discordant voice sounds across the store.

"Avery, what a surprise to see you here," Leonie exclaims. "Are you buying underwear too?" Leonie looks at Andrew and smiles, insipidly, "Mr. Clifford, it's so sweet for you to go shopping with Avery."

"It's sweet of Mr. Howel to go shopping with you," Andrew responds.

Avery steals another glance at Evan and sees that he's staring at her with terrifying intensity. She suddenly becomes conscious of just how close Andrew's leg is to her own. She looks at the skimpy lingerie set in Andrew's hand, and her stomach twists into knots. We look just like a happy couple, Avery thinks. There's no way Evan will believe that this is all just an act. He looks absolutely devastated—I've never seen him look so tortured.