A flush crept up Clare’s neck, not from embarrassment, but anger.
“I don’t need to prove my worth based on my appearance.”
Marcus’s patience visibly snapped.
“Enough. I must insist that you leave the premises.”
“Excuse me?” Clare’s eyes widened.
“You heard me.” He gestured toward the door. “Either produce verification of funds or exit my store. We cater to a specific clientele and you’re disrupting our business environment.”
The few customers browsing nearby had fallen silent, creating an uncomfortable bubble of attention. One woman whispered something to her companion, both casting judgmental glances in Clare’s direction.
“This is ridiculous,” Clare said, her voice steady despite her rising indignation. “I’m a paying customer.”
“No,” Marcus countered. “You’re not. You haven’t paid for anything, nor do I believe you can.”
He moved closer, invading her personal space.
“Now, I won’t ask again. Please leave before I’m forced to call security.”
Something in his tone, the absolute certainty that she did not belong, made Clare realize further protest would only create a scene.
With quiet dignity, she stepped away from the counter.
“The way you’ve treated me says far more about you than it does about me,” she said quietly.
Marcus smiled thinly, taking her arm.
“People like you don’t belong here,” he said, guiding her firmly toward the exit. “Perhaps try the department stores downtown.”
As they reached the door, he released her arm with a small push that was not quite forceful enough to be called assault, but left no doubt about his intentions. The glass door swung shut behind her with a definitive click, leaving Clare standing on the sidewalk of Rodeo Drive, the California sun suddenly feeling too bright, too exposing.
Through the window, she could see Marcus returning to his staff, making a comment that caused several of them to laugh while looking in her direction. Clare took a deep breath, steadying herself against the wave of humiliation washing over her. In 15 years of marriage to Robert, she had encountered plenty of pretentious people, but rarely such blatant disrespect.
She checked her watch. 11:40 a.m. Robert would arrive in 20 minutes.
For a moment, Clare considered waiting to explain what happened, to watch his face when he realized how they had treated his wife. Robert’s protective instincts were legendary in business circles. He had built his reputation on fairness, but was merciless when crossed.
“Are you all right?” a woman’s voice broke through Clare’s thoughts.
She turned to see the actress who had entered the store earlier, now exiting with a small shopping bag.
“I saw what happened in there,” the woman continued. “It was appalling.”
Clare managed a small smile. “Thank you for saying so. I’m fine, just surprised at how quickly assumptions are made.”
The actress nodded sympathetically before her driver ushered her toward a waiting car.
Clare decided to walk down the block to clear her head. She would not give Marcus the satisfaction of seeing her standing outside like she had been put in timeout.
Meanwhile, Robert Matthews’s day had been intense, even by billionaire standards. 3 investment meetings before 11:00 a.m. were followed by a conference call with international partners. But thoughts of lunch with Clare had kept him focused. These quiet moments together were precious amidst his chaotic schedule.
At 11:45, his driver pulled the black SUV to the curb near Elegance Boutique. Robert straightened his blue tie as he checked his reflection in the tinted window. At 48, his dark hair showed distinguished touches of gray at the temples, and his well-tailored navy suit complemented his athletic build maintained through pre-dawn workouts.
“Wait here, James,” he instructed his driver. “We shouldn’t be long.”
Robert approached the boutique, scanning the sidewalk for Clare. Finding no sign of her, he assumed she must still be inside. Perhaps she had found something special for herself, though he knew his wife’s preference for simplicity often puzzled those in their social circle.
As he reached for the door, a middle-aged woman approached him.
“Excuse me, are you Robert Matthews?” she asked hesitantly.
Robert nodded, instantly alert. Being recognized in public usually meant investors or journalists.
“I just wanted you to know your wife was just asked to leave this store,” the woman explained quietly. “I was inside. The way they treated her was disgraceful. She walked that way,” she added, pointing down the street.
Robert’s expression darkened.
