I can tell he doesn’t like that idea at all, but in the end, he gives me a curt nod. “Alright. I suppose I can allow that. If you go with security.”

“Is that really necessary?”

“It’s either between a team of security or me. Your choice.”

I sigh. “Okay, fine. I’ll compromise.”

He nods, but the pinched expression doesn’t leave his face. I’m not really in the mood to keep shopping, but I go through the motions anyway.

And somewhere between the rust-colored pantsuit and the little black dress with the thigh-high slit, I start enjoying myself again. Marcel brings the bundles of clothes I pick over to the dressing area.

Kolya promptly makes himself at home on the sofa and snags a macaroon off the coffee table. “Okay,” he says through a mouthful of sugar, “I’m ready for the show.”

I throw him an amused glare and walk into the dressing room, where Marcel has already hung up everything I selected.

I try on the first piece, a sleeveless nude wraparound dress that ends just above my knees. The silk is so soft that it feels as though I’m wearing a negligee, but when I turn to the full length mirror in the dressing room, I’m underwhelmed with what I see.

I’m definitely not a nine-foot tall Amazon queen with a six-pack and Olympian legs. I’ve never been the former, but at least I used to have the latter to fall back on. Up until recently, that is.

“June?” comes his voice. “Everything okay?”

“Um, I’m gonna change into the next thing,” I call back over the curtain. “This dress isn’t flattering on me.”

Before I can pull apart the tie-up that’s holding the dress together, the curtain is shoved to the side and Kolya invades my space.

I recoil instinctively and clap my hands over my chest. Which is stupid, because he’s obviously seen me naked before. It’s just that he’s so huge and the space is so small. I’ve never felt tinier, more fragile.

He looks me over, up and down and then up and down again. His eyes are like a caress everywhere they go. “What are you talking about?” he demands at last in a husky growl. “You look gorgeous.”

Gulping, I glance at my reflection again. “I look like I have linebacker shoulders. And my calves… Jesus, have they always been so fat?”

Kolya steps forward suddenly and yanks out the tie. The moment the dress straps float free, he pulls it off my shoulders and shoves it down my hips, leaving me standing there in my underwear with my engagement ring bouncing on its long silver chain.

“Marcel is right over—”

“I dismissed the sourpuss the moment you stepped in here,” he informs me. Then he puts his hands on my shoulders and twists me around to face the mirror. “Forget him. We’re here for you.”

“Kolya, I—”

“Look at yourself,” he commands me.

“I am looking.”

“No, you’re not,” he retorts with a vicious snarl. “If you were, you’d see how fucking beautiful you are.”