Tiffany & Co. stood there like a damn palace—spotless glass walls, velvet-lined displays, that signature blue everywhere, making everything feel a little... colder. Softer. Like even the air was expensive.
The moment Parker and Elena stepped inside, the staff clocked them. A sharp-eyed manager in heels so tall they defied physics glanced at Parker's face, then his watch, then his face again before giving that tight-lipped, professional smile that said we know you have money, but how much?
Elena, on the other hand, looked like she didn't belong. Or at least thought she didn't. But not anymore.
Her fingers brushed the edge of a glass case displaying diamond chokers so bright they practically threw light off the walls. She stayed quiet, lips parted just slightly as her eyes traced the fine details.
Parker caught that look.
She snapped back, straightening. "Sir?"
His voice dropped just enough to keep it personal, low, steady. "This stuff? It's not for me. Pick what fits. You. Naomi too and a few for me when you see one. But whatever you guys need—want. Don't care. Just handle it."
The head maid stepped up already used to her boss.
Elena's entire presence changed—still quiet, but not unsure. She owned that space now. Stepping around the cases with this calm, measured grace. Her fingertips skimmed along the edge of a rose gold diamond cuff, then lingered on a sapphire teardrop pendant like she could feel the quality without even touching it.
The manager noticed too, posture straightening.
"This piece," Elena said softly, nodding toward a delicate bracelet with interlocking diamonds. "Elegant, subtle. But this," her eyes flicked toward a heavier white-gold necklace encrusted with emeralds, "this one's for formal events. It commands attention."
The manager blinked, clearly impressed, but kept her pro smile tight. "An excellent eye, miss. Would you care to try them on?"
Elena didn't even look at Parker for approval. She nodded.
And Parker? He just watched.
It was... fascinating. This quiet, almost personal transformation. How she turned from 'the employee' into someone who looked like she belonged there. No awkwardness. No self-doubt.
He barely noticed the other customers.
A middle-aged couple a few cases down, whispering under their breath while the husband glanced between a set of diamond earrings and the price tag like it was a hostage situation.
A younger woman near the back, obviously rich but new to it, clutching a credit card while a jeweler explained the difference between cushion and princess cut diamonds.
Wealth wasn't loud here. It was all about control. Quiet flexes.
The manager returned with the final selection, presenting the jewelry on white satin pillows like they were offering a damn crown.
"$175,000 total for both pieces," she said smoothly, like it wasn't a jaw-dropping number. Elena gave a soft nod of approval. Parker just handed over his personal card, no hesitation for those pieces and what else Elena had bought.
When the manager swiped it, there was the faintest pause. Not denial—just a millisecond longer than normal. Like the system itself needed a second to process the sheer weight behind that number.
"Of course, Mr. Parker," the manager said, voice silk-smooth again. "Shall we have these added to the other batch?"
Parker nodded. "It's fine. They can be delivered at once"
This place felt even heavier somehow—dark wood panels, softer lighting, quieter. More serious. The kind of place where people whispered and deals were made behind closed doors.
Christ, they were like art.
But Parker? Watches were... watches. Telling time wasn't that complicated.
"Can I assist you, sir?" The salesman was older, mid-fifties, that smooth French accent kicking in. Tailored navy suit, cufflinks so subtle they probably cost a semester at Harvard.
Parker shrugged. "Not sure yet. Looking around."
Elena, though? She was already in motion.
"Something timeless," she murmured, inspecting a Patek Philippe under the glass. Rose gold. Skeleton dial. She nodded to herself. "This. And for him..." She moved down the row, stopping at a sleek Cartier Ballon Bleu with a silver face. Understated. Elegant. "This fits his style better."
The salesman, sharp as hell, nodded. "An exceptional choice, miss. Might I also recommend—"
"Those will do," Parker cut in, voice calm but firm.
The salesman didn't miss a beat, bowing slightly. "$650,000 total, monsieur. May I?"
But Parker caught the subtle shift in the air. The glances. Another couple across the room—the husband literally adjusting his cuff, sneaking a peek at Parker's reflection in the glass.
The salesman returned with a black envelope, sealed with a silver crest.
"An exclusive invitation, monsieur. Our private gala next month. Strictly limited guests. We hope you'll consider attending."
Parker accepted it with a nod but didn't respond.
He was already watching Elena as she adjusted the bracelet on her wrist. She looked... different. Not just more polished but more aware. Of herself. Of how people were looking at her now.
"You just spent over like 3 million dollars today...?"
Parker leaned back against the leather seat, gazing out at the fading afternoon light across Rodeo Drive.
The spree kept going.
Parker had seen wealth before—been wealth before—but Rodeo Drive hit different when you actually shopped like you owned the damn place. Luxury bags. High-end heels. Sunglasses worth more than a year of rent for most people.
Elena kept glancing at him, like she was waiting for a hard stop. Like she thought there was some invisible line where he'd finally say, "That's enough."
There wasn't. She hesitated at the display of Saint Laurent handbags, her hand hovering over a sleek crocodile leather one that cost more than most cars.
She nodded, voice barely above a whisper. "Beautiful,"
The manager, a woman dressed in all-black with perfectly lined lips, hovered like a damn hawk—but a polite, rich people hawk. Watching for the moment to upsell.
Parker barely noticed. His eyes had drifted toward a rack of designer sneakers—Balenciaga, Alexander McQueen, Off-White. Clean styles, flex-worthy without being too loud. He picked up a pair of black Prada Monolith loafers, the kind that said fuck you in the classiest way possible.
But the sunglasses? He lingered there.
Versace. Tom Ford. A pair of Dita Grandmasters with a ridiculous price tag. And yet...none of them felt right. Not since that day.
Cheap Glasses. The damn system had literally labeled them that. The first thing it gave him. Unbreakable, sure, but humiliating as hell. He could still picture them—cheap black plastic, like something you'd grab at a gas station next to the beef jerky.
Now? His invisible glasses sat in his inventory, forgotten.He clenched his jaw and dropped the sunglasses back.
Then at the fragrances & beauty section, this part was definitely for Elena and Naomi.
Soft lighting. Shelves lined with delicate bottles and jars. Jo Malone candles. La Mer creams. Tom Ford scents so rich they practically smelled like tax brackets. Elena ran her fingers along a bottle of Byredo's Bal d'Afrique, the scent already in the air—warm, musky, expensive as hell.
The saleswoman? Oh, she smelled commission.
"Sir, this collection is our rarest line. Limited bottles worldwide, hand-poured fragrance oils, completely—"
"Whatever she want." Parker's voice cut clean through her pitch.
The woman blinked, recalibrated, and turned the full charm on Elena instead.
Still, Parker watched.
Elena looked so...unsure.
It wasn't about the price—she was over that now. It was control. Like part of her still thought this was too much. Too extravagant.
She tested a soft vanilla fragrance on her wrist, inhaled, then shook her head. Too sweet.
Another. Muskier. Still no.
Her gaze flicked to him.
He gave a small, slow nod.
She settled on an elegant Chanel scent for herself and a fresh floral Jo Malone for Naomi.
The bill? Somewhere close to six figures. He didn't even blink.
Guys let's be patient, I will get better with shopping alot of things. It gets confusing with brands and all. But let's cheer up. Thank y'all for the support. I mean this! This has been my most fastest growing work all thanks to you guys.