Recently kissed, then.
He turned to look at Simone. When their gazes met, Simone’s heart kicked hard against her breastbone. His hazel eyes widened ever so slightly. She’d never seen this man before in her life, but she knew this type. Her family’s house had been a mainstay in the fashion world for nearly two hundred years. Her father told stories of businessmen in the seventies bringing in their mistresses to be fitted for smart suits perfect for lunching at La Tour d’ Argent. Her grandfather told stories of aristocrats in the thirties bringing in their mistresses to be fitted for ball gowns and day dresses. They both told stories passed down from her grandfather’s grandfather, stories of royalty ordering a king’s ransom in silk corsets, pantaloons, fur-trimmed robes, and sheer nightdresses. Men with money used it to get houses and planes and cars and tables at exclusive restaurants. They also used it to get mistresses, and used it to dress their mistresses for their pleasure. They expected personalized service, immediate delivery, and privacy while the woman du jour modeled for them. They were smart and powerful, and felt at home in a world where politics, entertainment, business, and sex came together in a combustible mix. But because the last thing she needed was a reputation as someone who poached from her clientele, they were off-limits.
Off-limits never looked so irresistible.
For a moment everything and everyone in the room disappeared while the earth turned under them. As she watched him, he reached up and removed a Bluetooth earpiece from his ear, and tucked it in the breast pocket of his suit.
“Now you take that thing out?” Jade sniped. She threw the man a look Simone knew would mean trouble for him later, quite possibly until jewelry appeared in a box of suitable color (pale blue, red, pale green).
She cleared her throat, and reached for her most palliative voice. “How may I help, Madame?”
“Look at this,” Jade said. She gestured at her body, clearly visible through the shifting panels of fabric. “It’s too loose.”
The woman was six foot tall without her heels. She towered over Simone as she made a noncommittal little noise in her throat and gestured for the woman to turn. She did so, spinning on her heel and stalking across the room, then back. Simone used the movement to step into the room and close the door behind her, the better to muffle any forthcoming tantrums. The man on the chaise hadn’t moved an inch. Simone caught his expression in the mirror as they both watched Jade do her runway strut. A grin quirked the corner of his mouth, and his eyes took on an amused cast.
“May I?” she asked when Jade reached her.
“By all means.”
Her companion’s gaze transformed a simple act of dressing into something heated, sensual. To counter the languid currents in the room, Simone briskly loosened the heavy silk bow tied at the woman’s abdomen, situated the fabric’s folds again, and retied the bow. The woman watched her hands move but didn’t fidget or attempt to help Simone.
“The next size down better suits your figure but will simply be too short,” Simone said as she tucked in folds. “I can adjust the fit here, here, and here,” she said, lightly touching her shoulder, waist, and hip.
“Will it hang right?”
“Oui, Madame,” Simone said. She wasn’t above playing up her French accent and speech patterns, especially when it came to soothing the fractious supermodel in her natural environment. “If you’ll come through to the workroom, where the light is better, I’ll make the adjustments myself.”
“Great,” Jade said, and hauled open the door. “I also want the red pieces. I’m going to have another look through the racks,” she said, as if bestowing a favor.
“Of course,” Simone said.
The man on the chaise hadn’t moved a muscle, but now he turned his head again to watch Jade sail into the retail space. She was all but naked, wearing only the kimono, the matching pair of cheeky panties, and her heels, oblivious to the stares as she flicked through the only racks not containing something currently lying on the floor of the fitting room.
Simone moved swiftly, plucking Jade’s requested items from the floor, a hook, and the chaise beside the man. “Une telle princesse,” she murmured. He sat forward as she searched for the size tags to make sure she brought the right ones to the workroom, automatically straightening the items so they draped from her fingertips.
“Sorry,” he said under his breath. His voice was low, rumbling from a deep part of his chest. “She’s in a mood.”
Simone blinked. In her experience, this type never apologized. They didn’t have to. “It’s nothing, sir,” she said. The last thing she needed was for Jade to think she was siding with her meal ticket.
“Obviously I’ll buy the panties, regardless of what else she decides on.”