Leo pushed open the heavy glass door of "Silk & Stitch," the boutique's hushed, perfumed air hitting him like a wall. Polished marble floors reflected harsh overhead lights, and racks of impossibly crisp, colorful fabrics whispered as he passed. His worn jeans and faded band t-shirt felt suddenly grubby, alien. A woman behind the gleaming counter looked up, her gaze sweeping over him—a quick, dismissive inventory from scuffed sneakers to messy hair. Her perfectly sculpted eyebrows lifted slightly, lips pursing into a thin line of disapproval. She didn't smile.
"Can I... look around?" Leo asked, his voice sounding too loud in the stillness.
The receptionist—her nametag read 'Celeste'—barely glanced up from her tablet. "We cater to a discerning clientele," she stated, her tone implying Leo was decidedly undiscerning. "Perhaps try the mall." Her dismissal was absolute, her attention already drifting back to her screen.
Leo felt the familiar heat of humiliation crawl up his neck. He dug into the pocket of his worn jeans, fingers closing around the thick wad of bills Thorne had tossed onto the desk. He pulled it out, not a single stack, but the entire dense bundle Thorne had handed him. It was crudely banded, thick enough to strain the elastic holding it. He placed it deliberately on the cool marble countertop with a soft, heavy *thud*.
Celeste's gaze snapped up from her tablet, drawn by the sound. Her eyes locked onto the cash. Not neatly stacked hundreds, but a dense, intimidating brick of mixed denominations – twenties, fifties, hundreds, the edges slightly rumpled. A small fortune resting casually on her pristine counter. Her carefully curated disdain evaporated instantly, replaced by wide-eyed shock that morphed rapidly into a brittle, overly bright smile. Her posture straightened, shoulders pulling back.
"Oh! My apologies, sir!" Her voice dripped with sudden, cloying sweetness, utterly unlike her previous tone. "Welcome to Silk & Stitch! How may I assist you today?" She clasped her hands together, leaning forward slightly, her eyes darting between Leo's face and the cash pile. "We have just received some exquisite pieces from Milan. Perhaps something tailored?" Her gaze flickered over his worn t-shirt and jeans again, but now it was calculating, assessing potential, not dismissing worth. "Or perhaps casual elegance? We have cashmere sweaters that would suit your... *frame* beautifully." She practically vibrated with eagerness, the transformation jarring. "May I offer you sparkling water? Coffee?"
Leo kept his expression carefully neutral, though a flicker of cold satisfaction curled in his gut. "Just clothes," he stated flatly. "Something simple. Good quality." He pushed the cash fractionally forward. "This should cover it."
Celeste practically snatched the money, her fingers trembling slightly as she counted it with practiced speed. "Of course! Absolutely!" She gestured towards the plush interior. "Right this way, sir. Our finest selections..." She led him past racks of intimidatingly expensive garments, her earlier dismissal replaced by obsequious attentiveness. Within twenty minutes, Leo emerged transformed. Dark, impeccably tailored trousers hugged his lean frame. A soft charcoal cashmere sweater draped effortlessly over broad shoulders. Polished leather boots replaced his worn sneakers. The clothes felt alien – luxurious armor against the world. Celeste hovered, practically bowing as she handed him a sleek garment bag containing his old clothes. "A pleasure serving you, sir! Please return soon!"
Leo stepped out onto the bustling sidewalk, the city noise crashing back. He hailed a cab, the sleek clothes earning him an instant, respectful nod from the driver. As the car pulled away from Silk & Stitch, Leo's fingers traced the impossibly soft weave of the cashmere sweater. It felt like borrowed skin. Then he remembered: Thorne's clothes. The expensive suit jacket, the silk shirt, the Italian loafers – all left discarded on the penthouse floor after their confrontation. Thorne hadn't retrieved them. Hadn't sent for them. It felt like a deliberate omission, a silent reminder of the raw vulnerability exposed in that sterile space. Leo pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the imposing glass spire of Azure Tower looming ahead.
*
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