Page 167 of A Vicious Love

“Yes.”

“Not just luxury. Very luxury.”

A pause.

“Very luxury.”

“Do not repeat it like I invented the concept.”

“Of course. Size?”

I looked at Sienna on the screen. Small. Fine-boned. Wrapped in the useless little sweater.

“Her size is in the styling file.”

“Color?”

I looked at the feeds again. Pale sweater. Black hair. “Cream. Or soft grey. Something warm.”

“You hate cream sir.”

“Not on her.”

“Understood.”

“And no fucking logo.”

“Obviously.”

“Fur?”

“Real or faux?”

“Do I look like I care about public opinion?”

“You care if Miss Bellemere cares.”

I hated that Reeves was right.

“Faux. The best one. If it looks cheap, I’ll know.”

“Yes, sir.”

I left the office before he answered. By the time I reached the private lift, Reeves was already stepping out of the boutique level with a garment bag over one arm and the expression of a man who had sprinted while pretending not to.

He handed it to me.

I unzipped it.

The coat inside was pale grey cashmere, long, soft, lined in silk, with a high collar. Good. Ridiculous price tag still tucked inside. Better.

“She’ll drown in this,” I said.

“It is the correct size.”

“She’s tiny.”

“Yes, sir.”