Curiosity’s Price

Chapter 3- Uninvited Guest

Morning light streamed through the wide front window of Helena’s boutique, spilling across racks of carefully spaced dresses and suits. It gave everything a soft glow, like the clothes themselves had their own quiet kind of glamour. Not Fifth Avenue glamour. More… Queens glamour. The kind that said “I worked my fingers raw to make this” instead of “my assistant flew to Milan for it.”

The bell above the door hadn’t rung yet, and the street outside still had that sleepy hum before the real city chaos kicked in. I was grateful for it. After last night, I needed calm.

I’d barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I heard his voice again. Curiosity is a dangerous thing. The words slid around my head like smoke, impossible to catch, impossible to escape. I told myself a dozen times I was overreacting. He probably hadn’t meant it literally. Probably.

But my stomach still hadn’t unclenched.

Helena bustled out from the back, arms stacked with hangers, pins stuck into the fabric of her shirt like tiny metallic quills. “Maya, stop staring into space and steam that dress before my ten o’clock walks in and thinks we’re running a laundromat.”

“Yes, Helena,” I said quickly, pulling myself together. I grabbed the garment bag she pointed to and hauled it toward the steamer.

Helena had run the boutique for twenty years, and she treated every garment like it was her child. She was sharp, blunt, and had eyes that could spot a loose stitch from across the room. To her, work left no space for distraction. I liked that about her. Normally, it was grounding. Today it just made me feel exposed.

I pressed the dress under the hiss of steam, trying to drown my thoughts in the rhythm of the work. Smooth. Release. Smooth. Release. But no matter how many wrinkles melted out of the silk, my own tangled mind stayed stubborn.

Last night had been a mistake. I shouldn’t have followed him into the hallway. Shouldn’t have overheard anything. And most of all, I shouldn’t still be thinking about him. Adrian Kane belonged to a world so far from mine it wasn’t even on the same map. Billionaires didn’t notice people like me.

The bell over the door jingled.

I didn’t look up right away—probably just an early client. “Good morning,” I called, still focused on not scorching Helena’s dress.

“Good morning,” a voice replied.

And my whole body went cold.

Not the words. The voice. Low. Controlled. Unmistakable.

I turned slowly.

Adrian Kane stood just inside the doorway, framed by sunlight. A charcoal-gray coat draped over his shoulders, dark suit beneath, polished shoes that didn’t belong on our scuffed wooden floors. He looked so out of place it was almost surreal—like someone had cut him out of a glossy magazine and pasted him into our little shop.

For a second, I thought I was hallucinating. That my sleepless night had spilled into daydream. But then he moved—shrugging out of his coat, folding it over his arm with deliberate ease—and the shock solidified into reality.

Helena appeared from the back room, already smiling the way she did whenever someone important wandered in. She had a radar for money, even if she didn’t know the name attached. “Good morning, sir. Welcome to Helena’s. How can we help you today?”

Adrian’s eyes flicked past her, landing on me. Sharp. Focused. My throat tightened.

“I need a suit,” he said simply.

It was a lie. I knew it, even if Helena didn’t. Men like Adrian Kane didn’t come to neighborhood boutiques for suits. He could’ve had one flown in from Paris in the time it took to drive here. No, this wasn’t about the suit. This was about me.

But Helena’s face lit up, oblivious. “Of course. We pride ourselves on custom work. Do you have a particular style in mind?”

His gaze didn’t shift. “I’ll know when I see it.”

Helena gestured toward the display racks. “Maya, help Mr…?”

“Kane,” he supplied, his tone casual but heavy enough to make my heart slam.

Helena froze mid-step. “The Adrian Kane?”

His silence was confirmation enough.

Her smile widened into something practiced and sharp. “Well. We’re honored.” She clapped her hands together and turned to me. “Maya, show Mr. Kane the collection. Now.”

I wanted to say no. Wanted to run. But Helena’s expectant look pinned me in place almost as much as his gray eyes did.

“Yes, Helena,” I murmured, setting the dress aside with clumsy fingers.

I led him to the racks of tailored suits, my pulse rattling so hard I thought he might hear it. He moved behind me, his presence impossible to ignore. Every step he took seemed to press against the air itself, bending it, filling it.

I stopped at the first rack. “These are our newest cuts. Italian wool blend, very versatile for—”

“Do you like working here?” he interrupted.

The question hit me sideways. My mouth went dry. “I… yes. Of course.”

He stepped closer, not touching, but near enough that the hairs on the back of my neck lifted. “Because you didn’t look like someone who belonged last night. At the hotel.”

My stomach flipped. He wasn’t even pretending anymore.

“I was working,” I said quickly, forcing my voice steady. “Just filling in. That’s all.”

His lips curved—not a smile, exactly. More like an acknowledgment. “And yet, you followed me.”

My chest tightened. Heat flushed up my neck. “I—I didn’t. I mean, I was just looking for the restroom—”

“Don’t lie,” he said softly, but there was steel in it. “You heard me.”

The air seemed to thicken. My fingers tightened on the hanger of the suit I’d pulled. “I didn’t mean to—”

“But you did,” he cut in.

For a moment, the boutique felt too small. Too quiet. Helena’s voice carried faintly from the back, but in here, it was just us. His words. His eyes. His presence filling the space like a shadow.

“What do you want from me?” I whispered before I could stop myself.

His gaze didn’t waver. “Nothing. Yet.”

The word slithered into me, equal parts relief and dread.

Then, just as suddenly, he stepped back. His hand brushed across a suit jacket, as if he’d come here for it all along. “This one,” he said coolly.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to move, to act normal. “Would you… like to try it on?”

“Yes.”

I guided him toward the fitting room, my legs shaky. He moved with absolute calm, like this was just another transaction. But I knew better. This wasn’t about fabric or fit. This was about reminding me he could step into my world whenever he wanted.

When the curtain slid shut behind him, I sagged against the wall, my breath coming fast.

Helena reappeared at my side, eyes sparkling. “Do you know who that is? Adrian Kane in my shop!” She squeezed my arm. “Maya, do not mess this up.”

Too late.

A moment later, the curtain parted, and Adrian emerged in the jacket. Of course it fit like it had been sewn for him. His broad shoulders filled it out effortlessly, the sharp lines emphasizing everything about him that already felt dangerous.

Helena clapped her hands. “Perfect! Absolutely perfect.”

But his eyes weren’t on her.

They were on me.

“Well?” he asked.

My mouth went dry again. “It… it looks good.”

The corner of his mouth lifted, the faintest hint of amusement. “Good?”

“Great,” I corrected quickly. “It looks… great.”

Helena beamed, oblivious to the weight of the exchange. “I’ll ring it up. Maya, take his measurements for tailoring.”

My heart sank.

He stood there, waiting, as I fumbled for the measuring tape. My hands shook as I circled his chest, the tape brushing the fabric of his shirt. He didn’t move, didn’t even blink.

“Relax,” he murmured, so low only I could hear.

I nearly dropped the tape.

When I was done, I stepped back fast, scribbling down numbers that probably didn’t even matter. Helena returned, still glowing. “We’ll have this altered by Friday, Mr. Kane. Thank you for choosing Helena’s.”

He nodded once, slipping back into his coat. But before he left, his eyes found mine again.

“See you soon, Maya,” he said softly.

And then he was gone. The bell jingled as the door closed, leaving only silence and the echo of his voice in my chest.

Helena sighed, dreamy. “Can you believe that? Adrian Kane! In here!”

I didn’t answer. My hands were still shaking too hard to hold the tape.

Because I knew the truth.

He hadn’t come for the suit.

He’d come for me.