Sweet For You, Ruthless For Others
Chapter 21: The Grands Of Dollar.

Chapter 21: The Grands Of Dollar.

Niklaus’s POV

It wasn’t about the money.

It never was.

I didn’t care about the price tag or the act of spoiling her. This wasn’t about me flashing my wealth—this was about giving Hermia the freedom to choose. To stand in front of a dress, not wondering if she could afford it, but deciding whether it made her feel like herself.

If she wanted this dress, she could have it. If she didn’t, that was fine too.

Because it wasn’t about the dress—it was about the choice. Her choice.

I wanted to help, of course. If there was a way I could ensure she walked out of here with the gown she wanted—without her pride suffering—I would do it. Quietly. Subtly.

A part of me ached to protect the side of her that still hesitated, the side that didn’t realize just how much power she held. That part of her was beginning to bloom, and I wanted to see it unfurl fully—wanted to watch as the world finally saw the woman I already knew she was.

And then Jared—overly eager, ever the salesman—broke the moment.

"This dress..."

He practically leapt into action, voice dripping with enthusiasm. "Ah, Hermia, an excellent choice! This gown is a masterpiece—a true work of art! Crafted in a luminous shade of sky pink, it hugs the figure perfectly, with a sleek and structured fabric that gleams like polished satin."

Hermia’s fingers grazed the dress, and I saw it—the softening of her expression, the way her lips parted slightly. She liked it.

Jared kept talking, his pitch flawless and incessant. "The design is sophisticated and bold. Look at this daring thigh-high slit—it’s the perfect blend of sultry elegance and regal charm. And the bodice? Oh, it’s an absolute showstopper, adorned with beadwork forming delicate, celestial patterns that shimmer with every movement."

Hermia’s smile widened—until it didn’t.

"How much is it?" she asked, her voice light, but edged with something I recognized too well—caution.

Jared ignored her.

He was too busy gesturing like a magician revealing his greatest trick. "And the slit—just enough to reveal your silhouette while keeping it classy. And the gemstones! Tiny ones embedded along the seams for that extra touch of luxury."

"How much is it?" she repeated, a little louder now.

I leaned back slightly, watching the scene unfold. She was trying not to let the anticipation crack her composure, but I saw the way her fingers curled into the fabric, the small, nervous twitch at the corner of her mouth.

She didn’t want to love the dress—because if she did, and it was too expensive, she’d have to walk away.

Jared, finally catching on, plastered on his most dazzling smile. "Hermia, this isn’t just a dress; it’s a statement. Modern glamour wrapped in confidence and charm. Shall I wrap it up?"

Her smile faltered. "Mr. Lawrence?" she said, voice sharper now.

Jared blinked, startled. "Y-Yes?"

"How. Much. Is. It?" she demanded, the soft-spoken woman from before replaced by someone with fire in her voice.

And gods, I liked it.

That flash of authority—that quiet defiance—set something alight in me. She was still hesitant, still nervous, but there was a steeliness in her that couldn’t be ignored.

Jared swallowed hard and glanced at me, his nervousness growing by the second. I didn’t move, didn’t blink—just kept my arms crossed, letting him squirm.

"Ah... about the price..." he stammered.

Hermia’s jaw tightened. "I asked how much it is."

The store went silent.

Even the attendants—who’d been fussing over mannequins and fluffing gowns—seemed frozen, eavesdropping without shame.

Finally, Jared straightened. "It’s six grand, Miss Blackwood," he announced, his voice a little too proud of the number.

Hermia blinked.

Her hand slowly released the fabric as if it had burned her. "Thousand?" she echoed, disbelief cracking her calm façade.

"Yes, six thousand," Jared confirmed, grinning like he’d just shared the best news of the day.

"Dollars?" Her voice shot up an octave, and I had to suppress the urge to smirk.

Jared nodded eagerly. "Yes, Miss Blackwood."

I clenched my jaw, a strange twist of frustration knotting in my stomach.

Was six grand too much for her?

The logical part of me—the part that dealt with billion-dollar contracts without blinking—wanted to brush it off, but seeing the way her smile slowly slipped away...

It bothered me. More than it should have.

For a brief, irrational second, I considered negotiating the price down by 95%, just to make the whole situation disappear. But I stayed silent, watching her reaction like a hawk.

"That’s... I’m—" Hermia stammered, clearly caught off guard.

Jared, oblivious to the growing tension, clapped his hands together. "You’re speechless! I know! Such a wonderful price, Miss Blackwood. Truly a deal you won’t find anywhere else."

I exhaled slowly through my nose, my patience wearing thin.

"I didn’t think six grand was cheap," Hermia muttered, her smile now strained.

Jared’s face froze for half a second before recovering. "Miss Blackwood, this is an exceptional price for a dress of this caliber."

Hermia nodded slowly. "I know, and thank you, but—"

I stepped forward.

The moment my hand landed on the small of her back, she stiffened. Not because she didn’t want me there—but because she felt me. My presence. My authority.

"Don’t worry about the price, Mia," I said softly, my voice a quiet command.

She blinked, clearly flustered. "It’s Hermia," she corrected, her words more of a reflex than a protest.

I didn’t acknowledge the correction.

Instead, my gaze locked onto Jared’s, and with a single nod, I gave him the order. "Wrap it up."

Jared practically tripped over himself with a "Yes, Mr. Hathaway!" signaling to the nearest attendant.

Hermia spun to face me, her brows furrowing. "I didn’t say I wanted it yet."

"You did," I replied smoothly, a hint of a smirk tugging at my lips. "You just don’t know it yet."

Her mouth opened, a sharp retort ready to fly—but then she glanced at the dress again.

I saw it in her eyes.

She wanted it.

And I was right.

As the attendants whisked the dress away, I leaned in closer, my voice a low murmur meant only for her. "Trust me, Mia. You deserve it."

Her cheeks flushed.

Her retort—whatever it was—died on her lips.

For once, she was silent.

Jared returned, grinning sheepishly. "Would you like to try it on?"

"No," we both answered at the same time.

The word rang out in unison, and even Jared blinked in surprise.

Hermia shot me a suspicious glance, and I clenched my jaw, realizing how that must have sounded.

I cleared my throat. "I’d love to see you in it," I added, my voice softer now. "Truly. But I have to get back to the office."

She stared at me for a beat longer, searching for something in my expression.

I didn’t let her find it.

Because the truth was—I wasn’t sure what she’d see if she looked hard enough.

But I have doubts that what she’ll see will be the hunger to rip off the dress so I can get to her.