King's Treasure (Oil Kings Book 3) by Marie Johnston (great novels .TXT) 📗

or any of the rest of it. I’d rather leave the country until next February and find some good, hard work to sink into until then. Then I’d try my hand at selling a few snapshots.

But this wasn’t about me, and despite what my dad thought, I wasn’t selfish. All I had to do was stay married in order to get my share and pay Dad back for what I’d pilfered. In order to stay married to me, Savvy needed more. She needed me to put on this dog and pony show. She was doing what I couldn’t—facing her family, determined to justify her choices in life. I wasn’t going to leave her hanging during my first week of being a husband.

“All right.” The man from the floor rose, one of his knees cracking, but that didn’t slow him down. “I think I have all I need. Marcus would like to go over colors and styles with you.”

“Is basic black an option?”

The guy, Harold maybe—this place didn’t do name tags—smiled. “There is no such thing as basic black here.” Humor laced his tone, as if he and I were in on the same secret. There was nothing simple in this store, otherwise their clientele would go elsewhere.

I followed him to a back room that had racks of jackets and a table full of swatches. The ornate chair behind a massive desk must be where I got to sit.

I looked around for Savvy, despite knowing she wouldn’t be here yet. Mrs. Abbot had asked the driver to drop me off at the tailors while they went to a dress boutique. I guess the really high-end places specialized in only men or women.

It could be worse. Harold and Marcus hadn’t asked me anything more probing than whether I liked the feel of a material.

Taking a seat behind the desk, I shook my head at Marcus’s offer for a drink, especially once I spotted the same kind of brandy Dad would drink. He wouldn’t approve of the Abbots paying for my tux, and the fitting, and everything else. I’d add them to the debt I had to pay.

An hour and forty minutes later, I was regretting turning down the drink. I couldn’t take one more sable, slate, pitch, or onyx swatch coming at me. Then I made the mistake of asking about a navy blue suit.

A frenzy of messages went between Marcus and Mrs. Abbot until Marcus confirmed the exact shade of Savvy’s dress.

“Sapphire,” he announced.

“Wouldn’t that be gauche?” I asked. “Dressing her the same as her name?”

Harold blinked and Marcus covered his mouth with his hand and looked at the ground.

“It’s uh . . .” Harold licked his lips and scratched the back of his neck. “It’s um . . . expected of the Abbots. No one questions Opal’s choices.”

“Is her dress going to be mother of pearl?”

Harold coughed a laugh and Marcus’s eyes flared wide, but his cheek pinched like he was biting it.

“I don’t mean to be insulting.” I truly didn’t, but I’d only been in this world for a few hours and I was dog tired from a night of traveling and sleeping on planes and in uncomfortable airport chairs. My day wasn’t over after this either. When Mrs. Abbot had learned I didn’t have more than a suitcase and a backpack, anticipation had gleamed in her eyes. She enjoyed planning and purchasing, and Savvy and I were the perfect excuse for more.

Opal Abbot wasn’t what I’d expected. Savvy had said Stepford wife, but there was a lot going on behind my new mother-in-law’s eyes. She didn’t beam because I was Xander King, son of Gentry King and part of the King Oil empire. She also didn’t look down her nose at a struggling photographer.

Savvy had introduced me, I’d been assessed, and that’d been it. I was Savvy’s husband and for now, that would do. The rest was left up to me. Which was why I would suck up my fatigue and get whatever clothing Mrs. Abbot thought was befitting of the family image. For now, it was the only way I could repay her.

“I’m just trying to figure the Abbots out.” It wasn’t a lie. “This wasn’t how I grew up.”

Harold nodded like he’d assumed at least that. I doubted any of his other clients had worn a hemp hoodie in here.

“I grew up with manure on my boots. Not polish.” I don’t know why I felt like I had to explain. They weren’t judging me. But damn, this life wasn’t anything like what I’d lived.

Marcus’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “I used to show horses when I was a kid.”

With his perfect posture and deliberate movements, I could picture him in long boots and a Beagler hat, taking his horse through the movements. But horse shows were nothing like the 4-H shows Mama had entered us in before she’d died. Scrawny kids with tucked-in white shirts, blue jeans, and dusty cowboy boots. Still, it made me feel better. Someone else knew the smell of horse sweat.

A flurry of giggles reached the selection room. I picked out Savvy’s laugh, no doubt a result of something Pearl had said, and based off Mrs. Abbot’s faint admonishment, I was right.

“Oh, husband of my sister,” Pearl called.

“Pearl,” Savvy hissed.

“Ah.” Marcus clapped his hands together. “I think we’re done. It sounds as if the rest of your group has arrived.”

“I’d better go before they tear your store apart.”

Harold chuckled nervously. “The Abbots are always a delight.”

Since he probably dealt with Chief, I understood the thread of anxiety in his voice.

I returned to the show floor, where the finest suits were displayed and rows of subdued colored shirts lined shelves.

My steps slowed. Pearl was behind a mannequin, attempting to do a who wore it better pose. Savvy was doing a version of the robot, mannequin style. Her back was to me, giving me a full view of her ass in the tight jeans she wore. They were stuffed into the fluffy boots Pearl had used earlier. Her coat was