Alex stands.
My heart skips like it always does when his eyes find me.
He walks toward me, slow and quiet, assessing me with a tilt of his head, hands in his pockets. There’s something different about the way he looks at me in moments like this—like I’m a puzzle piece he’s trying to fit into the chaos of his world.
“Do you like it?” he asks, voice calm, but there’s a flicker of something underneath.
I want to answer, but the personal shopper is hovering a little too close. I glance at him, then back at Alex. He follows my gaze and immediately turns to the guy.
“Give us a minute.”
Stephan nods, smiling like he understands something I don’t, and steps away to the far side of the room.
I clear my throat, eyes still on the jacket.
“I like the jacket,” I admit quietly. “But not the shirt. Or the pants.”
Alex nods once. “The jacket’s good. But not for the dinner party.”
He turns, gestures with two fingers, and the shopper is already back beside us. Without a word, he takes the jacket gently from my shoulders and hangs it on an empty rack across the room. I watch it go, a little disappointed.
Alex looks back at me.
“Try more.”
And so I do.
I go back into the fitting room, change, and step out. Again and again. Some of the things I try on are honestly too much—too loud, too fitted, too not-me, but a few catch me off guard. I like them. I say so. Alex doesn’t comment, just nods at the shopper, and those pieces get placed on the same rack as the jacket.
At some point, I stop and glance at that rack.
“Why are you hanging the ones I like there if they’re not for the dinner party?”
Alex doesn’t answer. Not immediately.
He just looks at the personal shopper and says,
“Bring it in.”
Bring what in?
The shopper snaps his fingers once, and a woman by the door nods and disappears into the hallway.
I stand still, heart flickering in my chest.
A few minutes pass.
Then the door opens again, and they’re wheeling in another rack.
This one is smaller, with a few outfits hanging on it.
My breath catches.
There’s a pair of tailored dark trousers, pressed and sharp. A slate-gray silk shirt, the kind that shimmers subtly under light. But it’s the jacket that makes my chest tighten.
It’s leather, but not like the others I tried on. It’s deep black, with minimal stitching and a perfect fit that speaks of luxury without trying too hard. The cut is unique, slightly high at the neck, with silver hardware that catches the light in all the right places. The brand’s signature is stamped discreetly on the inside collar.
It’s one of their newest drops, and it’s mad expensive.
