Brian shrugged. "It's fine. But come on—go. You're burning daylight."
Curtis dipped back into the chaotic sea of clothes strewn across the bed and floor. He resurfaced with a light, airy summer dress. Holding it up against the light, he nodded approvingly. "This should do…" He strode to the dresser. "Sunglasses… simple jewelry… flats—yes, that'll keep it chic.'"
He turned back to Eva, eyes alight with the focused glee of an artist about to sign his masterpiece. "Okay, girl. Let's work our magic."
*****
About an hour later, Eva was in the backseat of a black car, the city rolling past in a blur of sunlight and glass. Outside the tinted windows, summer New York was in full, unapologetic swing.
Beside her, Brian sat, long legs stretched out, his expensive cologne faint but lingering. His phone was in his lap, but he wasn't scrolling—his gaze was fixed on the road ahead, the quiet hum of the engine filling the space between them.
"If you need me?" Brian started.
