I had expected him to complain about the fabric or demand the suit be finished sooner. Instead, he wanted to know about my personal life.
I looked into his eyes.
He was no longer watching the mirror.
He was watching me.
To buy myself a second, I slipped two pins between my lips and tried to think.
If I answered yes, would he believe me?
If I answered no, would he misunderstand?
So I settled on the truth.
“Not yet,” I murmured.
The reaction was immediate.
His gold lighter snapped shut with a crack so sharp it echoed through the shop. Every muscle in his jaw tightened and the room seemed to lose all its air.
Paulie stopped chewing his gum.
His hand drifted toward the inside of his jacket.
Noah’s dark eyes never left mine.
“What do you mean…”
He didn’t finish the sentence.
But the way he said those four words made it clear he already knew exactly what he wanted.
And he was not a man used to waiting.
My hands were still on the measuring tape, still looped around his chest.
Still inches from him.
And I had no idea whether I had just made the safest choice of my life, or the most dangerous one.
👇
The tape stayed where it was.
My fingers were frozen against his ribs, the yellow cloth pulled taut, and I could feel his breath change under my hands, slower, deeper, as if he was trying to keep himself perfectly still.
Noah didn’t step back.
He didn’t need to.
The way he was looking down at me did all the moving.
Paulie’s shadow shifted by the door. He cleared his throat once, a low warning sound, and his eyes flicked to the window, to the rain hammering the glass, to the street outside where a black sedan idled with its wipers beating.
“Elena,” Noah said, and my name in his voice sounded different than it had from anyone else. He said it like he was testing how it fit in his mouth. “Look at me.”
I did.
