Simone’s POV
"What do you think?" I ask, pulling the midnight blue fabric tight against my hips.
Fraser does not look. He stares at the crown moulding, his hand resting heavy on his service weapon. "It is nice, Luna Simone."
"You barely glanced at it."
"I am sure whatever you choose will be appropriate."
The word tastes like ash. I pull three more hangers from the rack, the metal scraping the bar with a sharp, high screech. The sales associate has perfect teeth and a fake smile that smells like cheap perfume and high commission. She takes the cluster of silk from my hands, her manicured fingers brushing mine.
"Let me open the VIP lounge changing rooms for you," she says.
She moves fast, dropping the heavy black velvet curtains to reveal a private room lined with three massive, floor
