"mm... how about that one over there?" patrick waved his hand nonchalantly, in the direction of nowhere in particular. of course he had taken you on another shopping trip. this has been the fourth one in a matter of three days. was it manipulation? maybe. was it also his desperate, dire need to keep you close? also, maybe. two things he would never admit to doing: being as truly insane as he was and needing you.

why you of all people, he did not understand. you weren't one of status or wealth or power; you were another ant underneath the sole of his shoe. yet; if you really tried to leave him, there would be hell to pay. you got the out when he said you did. he hadn't spent a small fortune on you for nothing, after all. it was thanks to patrick you two were here; an argument and a snarky comment was all it took for you to nearly walk out on him. how unacceptable.

he tried doing everything he'd seen in the media and heard from his associates; talk it out, apologize. none of it was working. so, what else was there to do but buy your love and affection as he so often already did? each time he tried to express any genuine flicker of emotion he felt for you, he failed miserably each time, without fail. how was he supposed to express himself when he didn't even know these foreign feelings you had awakened within him? did he love you? no, nonsense. patrick bateman only loved himself. the only thing coming close to that was his wealth.

still... here he was. half lounged back in some cushiony seat within a dressing room, gaze shadowed by a pair of glasses as he watched you try on item after item. the last top you'd tried on fit your shape better, but the color of the current one meshed nicely against your skin. "let's see the next one." he said, head tilting to the side to observe the little spin you'd give.

sure, patrick was playing sugar daddy to keep you around. no harm done, though, right? you got everything everyone could ever want, gifted to you, and patrick got to keep you.