He throws his head back and laughs. “Easy, tiger. The clothes aren’t for you.”
The words hurt me more than I expect.
My chest tightens.
“Then… who are they for?” I ask, my voice dropping to a whisper.
He shrugs. “No one.”
My eyes brighten before I can stop myself, and I quickly look away. He notices anyway and laughs.
“I’m planning a fashion brand,” he says. “Big. Chanel-big. I heard there’s a*****e on the outskirts making unique designs. I was heading there before my mother stormed your office.”
I smile despite myself at the thought of him coming for me when he heard his mother was there.
Catching myself, I clear my throat and pout. “B-but what does that have to do with me?”
He tilts his head, looking at me like I asked a ridiculous question. “You’re my marketing agent. You see v
