And I’m in sweats.
Perfect.
My heart races again, not from panic this time, but from the sheer weight of where I am.
Can I do this? Step into their world as if it’s mine too?
Steal. Charm. Perform.
I glance over at Koen and Levi, who are already unbuckling their seat belts. Their casual confidence feels like a safety net, but part of me wonders how long it’ll hold before I’m expected to stand on my own.
I guess we’ll find out tomorrow.
First, I need to find a dress that makes me look as expensive as the world I’m about to enter and not the stripper I am.
TWENTY
Levi is already halfway to the shop door by the time I’m still fumbling with my seat belt. He moves like a whirlwind, his energy too restless to wait while I’m tangled up in a knot of fabric and frustration.
Koen, on the other hand, steps out of the car at an unhurried pace, rounding to my side. He’s pushed the passenger seat forward by the time I’ve finally managed to get rid of the seat belt, then extends his hand to me. He looks silently amused at my struggle, but there’s nothing mocking in his gaze.
I hesitate for a split second, something in his offered hand making me pause. I’ve never needed someone to help me.
Why does letting him be here feel different, even okay?
His fingers are warm and strong as I let him pull me to my feet, and I swear there’s a tiny squeeze before his thumb brushes over the back of my hand, lingering like it’s a statement.
“You could have told me this place is so…” I start, feeling the warmth creep up my neck to my cheeks.
Fuck. Since when am I flustered?
I don’t get flustered, especially not over appearances. Yet, here I am, feeling painfully out of place. I pull at the hem of my hoodie, hoping he doesn’t notice my sudden insecurity.
The panic attack in the car was already enough to bruise my ego.
“Sowhat, Little Thief?” He draws out the nickname, his thumb brushing one last time over my knuckles before I pull my hand away.
“Sofancy. I’m in my sweatpants, for fuck’s sake,” I mutter, glaring at him.
“I hadn’t even noticed.” He suppresses a smile and rests his hand on my elbow, steering me toward the shop. “And trust me, nobody else will either.”
“You’re not exactly a fashion icon yourself.” I huff, still feeling the awkwardness prickling under my skin. “So that’s not very reassuring.”
“Oh, now you’re critiquing my wardrobe?” There’s a glint in his eyes that dares me to push back.
“No,” I mumble, glancing at his leather jacket, black jeans, and the way the fabric clings in all the right places. “You dress in the same black stuff every damn day. It’s predictable.”
And annoyingly hot, not that I’d say that out loud.
“First off, they’re not the same. I have twenty pairs of these jeans and shirts. I wash them between wearingthem, believe it or not. Second…” he pauses, giving me that cocky, half-lidded look, “… we’ve only met four times. A bit early to say it’severy damn day,don’t you think? Prejudice much?”
“Well, I’ve seen you on TV, in magazines, and billboards. It’s always the same look. So, no. Not prejudice, simply observation skills.”
“You’ve got me all figured out, haven’t you?”
“Absolutely not.” I huff a laugh. “I have no idea who you are. You’ve been a rock, cold and unreadable. And now, today, you flicked a switch.”
Koen stops walking, turning to face me. “How so?”
