Chapter 179
Madison
I followed Alexander into the first boutique, a sleek space with minimalist decor and clothing displayed like museum artifacts. A saleswoman with a tight bun and even tighter smile approached us immediately.
“Mr. Knight! What an honor to have you visit our store,” she gushed, ignoring my existence. “How can I assist you today?”
Alexander placed his hand on the small of my back, a subtle gesture that didn’t escape the saleswoman’s notice. “We’re looking for professional attire for Miss Harper here.”
Her smile dimmed slightly as she finally acknowledged me. “Of course. What kind of pieces were you looking for?”
“Power suits,” Alexander replied before I could speak. “Something that commands respect and exudes confidence. We need outfits that make a statement when she walks into a room.”
The next hour was a blur of muted grays, blacks, and navy blues. Each outfit felt more restrictive than the last, like I was trying to squeeze myself into someone else’s skin. The saleswoman kept bringing options that made me look like I was playing dress–up in my mother’s clothes.
“What do you think?” I asked, stepping out of the dressing room in a charcoal pantsuit that made my shoulders look boxy and my waist disappear.
Alexander’s expression remained neutral, but I could see the slight tightening around his eyes.
Turn around.”
I did a slow spin, feeling ridiculous.
“No,” he said simply. “Next.”
The saleswoman’s smile grew more strained with each rejection. After the seventh outfit, Alexander checked his watch and stood up.
“We’re done here,” he announced. “These aren’t working.”
I changed back into my clothes, relieved to escape the stifling boutique. As we stepped outside, I couldn’t help but laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Alexander asked, his hand returning to the small of my back as we walked.
“That woman’s face when you rejected everything she brought out, I thought she might cry.”
His lips quirked up. “She was dressing you like you were sixty and heading to a funeral.”
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“I did feel like I was being buried alive in that last pantsuit,” I admitted.
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Alexander guided me toward another store a few blocks down. “Let’s try here. They have a better understanding of what ‘powerful‘ actually looks like on a woman.‘
This boutique had a different energy–warmer lighting, more colorful displays, and a diverse range of styles. A young saleswoman with vibrant red hair approached us with a genuine smile.
“Welcome! Can I help you find anything specific today?”
Alexander spoke before I could. “We’re looking for professional attire that makes a statement without sacrificing style.”
“For you, sir?” she asked.
“For me,” I interjected, finding my voice. “I need outfits that command respect in a professional setting.”
The saleswoman–Jenna, according to her name tag–nodded appreciatively. “I have several collections that would be perfect. What’s your usual style?”
I glanced at Alexander, unsure how to answer. My usual style was whatever I could afford that looked professional enough and didn’t clash too much with my personal taste.
“She needs versatility,” Alexander answered smoothly. “Pieces that transition from day meetings to evening events.”
Jenna nodded. “I have just the things. Why don’t you browse while I pull some options?”
I wandered through the racks while Jenna disappeared into the back of the store.
Alexander stood nearby, scrolling through his phone but glancing up occasionally to watch me.
“See anything you like?” he asked, his voice low enough that only I could hear.
I pulled out a deep burgundy blouse with an interesting neckline. “Maybe this? It’s professional but not boring.”
He stepped closer, examining the blouse with a critical eye. His proximity made my skin tingle with
awareness.
“Good eye,” he murmured. “That color would look stunning against your skin.”
Before I could respond, Jenna returned with an armful of clothing. “I’ve got some fantastic pieces for you to try! Let’s start with this.”
She handed me a navy dress with architectural seaming that looked professional and modern.
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“The dressing rooms are right over there,” she said, pointing to the back of the store. “Let me know if you need anything.”
I took the dress and headed toward the dressing room, feeling Alexander’s eyes on me the entire way. The dress fit like it had been made for me, hugging my curves without being inappropriate for work. I stepped out to show Alexander, who was sitting in a plush chair outside the dressing rooms.
His eyes darkened as they swept over me. “Turn around.”
I did a slow spin, and when I faced him again, he was nodding.
“Yes,” he said simply. “That’s perfect.”
Jenna clapped her hands together. “I knew it! The tailoring on this piece is exceptional. And we can pair it with this blazer for more formal meetings.”
She held up a matching blazer, which Alexander immediately approved.
“What else do you have?” he asked.
The next hour passed in a blur of outfit changes. Unlike the previous store, almost everything Jenna brought fit beautifully, making me feel confident rather than awkward. Alexander vetoed a few items, a skirt he deemed “too conservative” and a blouse that was “trying too hard,” but approved
most of the selections.
I emerged from the dressing room in a perfectly tailored pantsuit in a rich emerald green.
“What do you think?” I asked, smoothing down the jacket.
Alexander was quiet for a moment, his eyes taking in every detail. “Come here,” he said finally.
I approached him, suddenly nervous under his intense scrutiny.
“The color is perfect,” he said, slightly adjusting the lapel. “But something’s not quite right with the fit.”
Jenna appeared with pins. “I can have this tailored to fit her perfectly. It just needs a slight adjustment at the waist.”
Alexander nodded. “Do it. We’ll take this one too.”
By the end of our session, we had selected five complete outfits: the navy dress with its matching blazer, the emerald pantsuit, a charcoal pencil skirt with a silk blouse, a burgundy sheath dress, and a black pantsuit with subtle pinstripes.
“These will be perfect for your new position,” Alexander said as Jenna rang up our purchases. I tried not to wince at the total appearing on the register.
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“Are you sure about all of this?” I whispered to him. “It’s a lot of money.”
“Consider it an investment in Knight Industries,” he replied smoothly.
He handed over his credit card without even blinking at the astronomical sum.
“When will the alterations be ready?” he asked Jenna.
“We can have everything done by tomorrow afternoon,” she promised. “I’ll personally oversee the
work.”
“Excellent,” Alexander responded, his tone filled with satisfaction.
Lucia Morh is a passionate storyteller who brings emotions to life through her words. When she’s not writing, she finds peace nurturing her garden.
