Sweet For You, Ruthless For Others
Chapter 20: The Dress That Caught Her Eye.

Chapter 20: The Dress That Caught Her Eye.

Hermia’s POV

"Can I just get the dress now?" I asked, my patience wearing thin.

"After you, Mia," Niklaus said smoothly, gesturing toward the racks of gowns.

I exhaled sharply. "It’s Hermia," I muttered under my breath, knowing full well he wouldn’t listen. He never did.

He took pleasure in shortening my name, twisting it like he had some kind of claim over me.

I ignored the way my nerves frayed as I stepped forward, the soft fabric of my sundress brushing against my legs. The boutique was almost too grand, too polished—filled with dresses that looked like they belonged to a different world entirely. Not mine.

Still, I walked forward, trying not to let my discomfort show.

Niklaus followed. Always watching.

A shadow at my back.

I felt the weight of his stare, the way his presence seemed to bend the air around him. He was both a storm and a calm at once.

The moment Jared Lawrence, the boutique owner, stepped forward to greet me, his charm was already dialed up to ten.

"Ah, you must be Miss Hermia," he said smoothly, his smile wide and practiced. "A pleasure to have you here."

His gaze flicked over my sundress, and I caught the slight shift in his expression—polite, but subtly assessing.

"What a lovely choice of attire—it suits you beautifully."

I blinked. Compliment or carefully veiled observation? Hard to tell.

Jared, I realized, had already taken stock of me. My dress, my posture—probably even my hesitation. This store was leagues above anything I could afford, and he knew it.

But he also knew better than to question anything—or anyone—Niklaus Hathaway brought through his doors.

Whatever Jared had planned next, however, was immediately cut short by the icy glare Niklaus shot his way.

Cold. Unrelenting. The kind of look that could freeze fire.

Jared faltered mid-step, clearing his throat awkwardly as he quickly smoothed his expression.

Right. Niklaus didn’t appreciate distractions.

"This way, please," Jared said, his voice a little too eager as he guided us further into the store.

I moved through the endless rows of shimmering fabrics, my fingers ghosting over embroidered silks and delicate lace. Everything here looked like it had been made for royalty—intricate, impossibly expensive.

"This one here," Jared began enthusiastically, pulling out a gown draped in hand-stitched embroidery. "Crafted from imported silk, with intricate detailing and—"

I tuned him out.

The dresses were beautiful, but none of them felt right.

Niklaus walked beside me, silent but ever-present, his unreadable gaze tracking every flicker of my attention. Each time my eyes lingered on a dress, even briefly, Jared would dart forward to start talking about them quickly.

They respected me, I noticed.

I wasn’t supposed to, but I did.

The quiet movements, the careful, practiced way they worked around me—it was a game I wasn’t meant to be aware of.

Niklaus had done this deliberately.

And I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.

The store attendants, pretending to be busy, stole not-so-subtle glances from behind the displays. The sight of Niklaus Hathaway walking through their store, towering and untouchable, would be the gossip of the week.

He didn’t care.

He was unmoved by their whispers, their intrigue. He existed in his own world, unaffected by the attention that followed him.

And yet—

Still, I hadn’t chosen anything.

Jared’s polite excitement dimmed ever so slightly as I hesitated again.

Niklaus’s gaze narrowed, the shift almost imperceptible.

What’s holding you back, Hermia?

I didn’t know how to answer.

>>>>>>>>>

Niklaus’s POV

>

What’s holding her back?

I watched her quietly, the faintest tug of a smile threatening the corners of my mouth as Hermia moved between the rows of dresses. The soft hum of the boutique faded into the background—distant, unimportant. All my focus was on her.

She wasn’t just looking at the gowns; she was studying them, each flicker of her gaze betraying a careful, calculated hesitation. Uncertainty clouded her expression, but there was something else too—a spark of rebellion just beneath the surface. A stubbornness.

It fascinated me.

Shy, yes—but there was a quiet defiance in the way she moved. The subtle set of her jaw, the way her fingers grazed the fabric as though testing its worth rather than accepting it at face value. She wasn’t dazzled by the luxury around her—not like most people would be.

No, Hermia wasn’t here to be impressed.

She was here fighting an invisible battle with herself.

I could see it in the way she lingered too long by some dresses and skimmed past others with barely a glance. She was searching—not for the most beautiful gown, but for one that wouldn’t crush her with the weight of its price tag.

She wouldn’t ask, of course. She refused to embarrass herself like that.

I clenched my jaw.

It made me want to rip every single tag off the dresses myself—make it so the only thing she had to choose was what suited her, not what her wallet could handle.

And then, she stopped.

Her posture shifted, and for the first time since we stepped into this boutique, there was no hesitation.

She’d found something.

Without a word, Hermia moved toward a particular dress—a breathtaking creation of midnight blue silk, its jeweled embellishments catching the light like stars.

Jared, ever the opportunist, noticed her interest in an instant. He practically lunged forward, yanking the price tag off the hanger with a quick, practiced motion before she could catch a glimpse of the cost.

I didn’t stop him.

Hermia didn’t notice.

Her attention was fully locked on the dress. "This is so beautiful," she whispered, her voice soft but filled with awe.

Finally.

I didn’t know what event she was preparing for, didn’t know where she planned to wear it, but none of that mattered. All I cared about was that, in this moment, she looked at something and saw herself in it.

Not a version of herself molded by expectation. Not a choice dictated by someone else’s approval.

Just... her.

Hermia had spent too long living under the weight of other people’s opinions, always glancing over her shoulder, wondering if she was doing the "right" thing. I’d seen it more times than I could count—the way she second-guessed herself, the way she braced for judgment even when none came.

And today, I wanted her to pick something simply because she wanted it.

Because it made her feel powerful. Beautiful.

I considered stepping forward, taking the dress from the rack and buying it for her. It would be so easy—Jared was already waiting, practically salivating at the thought of completing a sale.

But then I remembered the look on her face the last time I did something like that.

The mall. That dress I forced into her hands.

The flash of embarrassment in her eyes when I paid for it without asking, the way her fingers had curled around the bag like it was heavier than it should’ve been.

I hadn’t thought about her pride then—I’d only wanted to save her from the discomfort of not being able to afford something she clearly liked.

But she hadn’t asked for that.

She’d taken the dress, but her silence had been louder than any thank you.

So this time, I held back.

This time, I let her run her fingers over the silk and decide for herself.

Because this moment wasn’t mine.

It was hers.