Harper's POV
I don’t even realise I’ve started talking until the words are already spilling out.
“It’s for a wedding,” I murmur, my voice quiet but steady as I speak. “The client wanted something soft, vintage-inspired. Long sleeves. Fitted lace bodice with a deep V in the back. There’s a pearl detail along the seams and these little covered buttons that run all the way down the spine.”
I wince as the needle pierces my skin, and I bite down hard on my bottom lip to keep the sound from escaping.
Mark’s hand steadies against my arm, his fingers firm and controlled. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t stop working. “Sounds expensive,” he says simply.
“It should be,” I answer, distracted. “She doesn’t know what she wants though. She keeps changing her mind about the hemline, and she’s picky about
