Ruin Me Gently

Chapter Two

Scarlet POV

I twist in front of the mirror one more time, heart hammering in my chest. The dress really is perfect. It hugs my waist, dips low enough to hint at cleavage without screaming desperation, and the way the fabric shimmers under the lights almost makes me feel... dangerous.

“You’re buying it,” Zain says firmly, already yanking the tag up to check the price. He winces slightly but recovers fast. “Worth every penny. Let’s go, Cinderella.”

Just like that, the first dress he finds is perfect. "I envy you," I mutter, and he laughs.

"What's to envy? Other than my fabulous hair?"

"Are you joking? In less than five minutes, you find the perfect dress! How?" I would have been here for weeks.

"All in the fashion, trust me. You're buying it, ignore the price, I'll pay, as a celebration and gift for you finally losing your virginity, even if it could be a better guy."

"Don't," I warn, and he laughs, holding up his hands.

I duck back into the changing room, shimmying carefully out of the dress, and wrangle my hoodie and leggings back on. My fingers are clumsy, still buzzing from how different I felt in that fabric.

When I step out, Zain is waiting at the counter, the dress slung over his arm like a trophy.

I shuffle over to him, cheeks burning. The salesgirl gives us a plastic smile as she rings it up, folding the dress delicately into crisp tissue paper and sliding it into a glossy bag with the store’s gold logo.

Zain whips out his card before I can even reach for my purse.

“Zain—” I start.

“Nope,” he says brightly, tapping the card reader. “I mean it. Consider it a sacrificial offering to the goddess you’re about to become tonight.”

I roll my eyes but mutter a soft “thank you” as he grabs the bag.

We step back out into the mall, the noise and bright lights hitting me like a wave. For a moment, I just stand there, clutching the bag like a lifeline.

“Alright,” Zain says, linking his arm through mine again. “Step two.”

I blink up at him, stomach knotting tighter. “Step two?”

He grins, all evil mischief. “We got the dress. Now we get the armor underneath.”

I immediately don’t like the sound of that. “What do you mean by armor?”

“Scar,” he says patiently, as if explaining something to a particularly slow child. “You can’t wear grandma panties under that. You need lingerie. S*xy, scandalous, soul-snatching lingerie.”

“I— I don’t need—” I sputter.

“You do,” he says, steering me across the walkway with terrifying determination. “Trust me.”

I glance around, trying to spot where he’s taking me. When I see it, I stumble a little.

“Zain,” I hiss, tugging on his arm. “No.”

“Yes,” he sing-songs, dragging me closer.

It’s not just a lingerie shop. It’s a full-on adult store. Neon pink signs. Mannequins in latex. A huge display window with more dildos than I ever wanted to see in my lifetime.

My entire body locks up. “Zain, I’m not going in there.”

“You are,” he says, already pulling me toward the door.

“No, seriously, I—”

He stops, turning to face me, holding both my shoulders. His hands are warm through the hoodie and his jacket.

“Scarlet. Listen to me. No one cares. No one’s going to look at you weird. People come here for the same reason you are, to feel s*xy. You deserve to feel s*xy. Tonight is a big deal for you, and you are going to own it.”

I swallow hard, shifting from foot to foot. Everything inside me is screaming to run back to the safety of food courts and Forever 21.

But Zain’s eyes are steady. Warm. Fierce.

Deep down, a tiny, reckless part of me wants to feel the way I did in that dress again.

Powerful. In control, so I blow out a breath and nod. “Fine. But if anyone I know sees me, I’m killing you.”

He grins, looping his arm back through mine. “Deal.” He pushes the door open with a flourish. The inside of the store is... a lot.

Velvet curtains, low, thumping music, racks of lace, satin, and leather, shelves lined with vibrators, handcuffs, and oils. I try not to look too hard at anything, keeping my eyes glued to the floor, like that might make me invisible.

Of course, Zain is in his element. He leads me straight past the more hardcore sections, toward a display of lingerie sets on glossy black mannequins.

“Here we go,” he says, flipping through a rack of lacy bras and matching panties. “Nothing scary. Just s*xy.”

I hover awkwardly behind him, clutching the dress bag to my chest like a shield.

“Come on,” he says, pulling out a few options and holding them up for my inspection.

One is deep red lace, sheer and strappy.

Another is black satin with tiny, delicate bows.

The last is a barely-there mesh set that makes my face flame just looking at it.

“I can’t wear that,” I whisper.

“You absolutely can,” he says firmly, thrusting the black satin set into my hands. “This one. It’s s*xy but not screaming ‘I have no idea what I’m doing.’”

I stare at the delicate material in my hands, my heart hammering.

“What if he thinks it’s too much?” I say quietly.

Zain snorts. “Honey, men don’t think when they see lingerie. Their brains just short-circuit. Especially if it’s on someone as hot as you.”

I press the set against my chest, feeling like a deer caught in headlights.

Zain softens. He steps closer, squeezing my shoulder.

“Scar... This isn’t about him. It’s about you. Wear it for you. Because you deserve to feel like a d*mn goddess, whether he worships you properly or not.”

I nod, biting my lip.

“Good.” He pats my back. “Now, go try it on. And if you don’t, I swear to God, I’ll start picking out crotchless ones instead.”

I groan but shuffle toward the fitting rooms at the back of the shop, cheeks burning the entire way. The fitting room is even smaller than the boutique’s, just a velvet curtain separating me from the rest of the store.

Standing here, I stare down at the lingerie in my hands, black satin, tiny delicate straps, little bows so small they feel like a joke.

My fingers tremble slightly as I peel off my hoodie and leggings again, leaving me in just my old cotton underwear and a sports bra. I look down at myself, grimacing.

Yeah... Not exactly the stuff of fantasies.

Quickly, I strip off the plain underwear and carefully slide the new set on. The satin bra cups lift and shape me perfectly, the panties soft and snug, sitting high on my hips.

When I catch my reflection, I freeze. I don’t look like me.

I look... confident. Like the kind of woman who knows exactly what she’s doing. Even if, inside, I’m shaking like a leaf.

“Scar?” Zain calls through the curtain. “If you don’t come out in the next thirty seconds, I’m coming in and getting an eyeful.”

I groan, cover my face for a second, then drag my feet to the curtain. Peeking out, I see him standing there with his hands on his hips, eyebrow arched like he’s waiting for a performance.

“Well? Let’s see it!”

Squeezing my eyes shut for a moment, I step out.

When I open them again, Zain is staring, and for once, he’s silent.

His mouth hangs open slightly, like he’s actually stunned. He whistles low under his breath and places one hand dramatically over his heart. “Sweetheart... you just ended world peace.”

I feel my cheeks go nuclear. “Stop it.”

“I’m serious!” he says, circling me like he’s inspecting fine art. “If Jacob even thinks about looking away from you tonight, I will personally castrate him with a glitter pen.”

I burst out laughing, hugging myself awkwardly.

“You really think it looks okay?”

Zain gives me an exaggerated glare. “Scar, you look like s*x on legs. In fact, you’re not allowed to wear that outside your bedroom. I feel like I should throw a jacket over you and escort you to a safe house.”

I laugh harder, the anxiety loosening its death grip a little. I twirl once, the soft satin brushing my skin.

“Okay,” I say, cheeks burning. “I’ll take it.”

“Thank God,” Zain says, clapping his hands. “Now go get dressed before some poor sap in here has a heart attack.”

I duck back into the fitting room, my face still flaming, and shimmy out of the lingerie. Sliding back into my leggings and hoodie feels weirdly anticlimactic after seeing myself like that.

I fold the lingerie carefully and carry it back out where Zain is already bouncing on his heels.

“You ready to make questionable decisions and traumatize people with that body?” he teases.

“Shut up,” I mutter, pushing him toward the register.

We pay... well, Zain pays, because he insists this is all “his legacy”, and step back out into the mall.

As soon as the door swings shut behind us, Zain spins on his heel, pointing a finger dramatically at me.

“Now listen carefully, Scarlet Louise.”

I blink at him. “What?”

He jabs the air for emphasis. “The underwear you’re wearing right now, the cotton, the sports bra, the tragic neutral colors — must never see the light of day again.”

I gape at him, laughing.

“I’m serious!” he says, pacing like a general giving a war speech. “They die tonight. They die with your virginity. You will bury them. You will burn them. You will exorcise them.”

I double over, clutching the dress bag and the lingerie bag to my chest, trying not to wheeze from laughing.

Zain grabs my shoulders, giving me a firm shake. “Promise me, Scar. Promise me you will destroy them.”

“Okay!” I gasp. “Okay, I promise.”

He nods solemnly, like he’s just saved my eternal soul.

Then his face brightens again. “Now, pretzel?”

I snort, still giggling. “Definitely pretzel.”

He links our arms together again and we march down the mall like we’ve just survived a war. Behind us, the neon glow of the s*x shop fades away, but the weirdest thing is... I don’t feel embarrassed anymore.