If Sunday was an skirmish, Monday was open war.
The issue was the Walk-In Closet,The Master Suite's closet was the size of a standard Manhattan studio apartment. It was a corridor of dark mahogany and soft lighting, divided down the middle. For years, the left side had been empty, a void waiting to be filled.
Julian entered the closet at 6:45 AM, a towel wrapped around his waist, steam from the shower still clinging to his skin. He needed his lucky tie—the deep crimson Hermès. He had a meeting with the Zoning Commission at 10:00, and he needed to look like he owned the pavement they walked on.
He stepped into the closet and stopped dead.
His side was a symphony of order. Suits hung in a color gradient from charcoal to navy to black. Shirts were pressed and spaced exactly one inch apart. Shoes were aligned with military precision.
The other side—the left side—looked like a rainbow had exploded.
Elena's clothes were not organized by color or season. They were organized by... chaos. Bright floral scarves were draped over the mahogany valet stand. A pair of red heels had been kicked off in the middle of the floor, one lying on its side. A hat with a wide brim was hanging off a sconce.
And there, encroaching on his territory, hanging on the rack immediately next to his $5,000 navy blazers, was a dress.
It was a sundress. It was tie-dye. It was orange, pink, and electric blue.
It was visually screaming at his Armani.
Elena! Julian barked.
He heard the sound of a toothbrush hitting the sink in the bathroom. A moment later, Elena appeared in the doorway, wearing a white bathrobe, a toothbrush hanging out of her mouth, her eyes wide.
What?" she mumbled. "Is the house on fire?"
This,Julian gestured wildly at the tie-dye dress. "This... garment. It is touching my suits.
Elena blinked, pulling the toothbrush out of her mouth. "It's a dress, Julian. It's not contagious. The navy wool isn't going to catch 'bohemian chic'."
It is visual noise,Julian snapped. I cannot focus on selecting a power suit when my peripheral vision is being assaulted by a psychedelic sunset.
You're dramatic in the morning," she noted, walking past him into the closet. The scent of her—something floral, warm, and distinctly her—filled the small, enclosed space. It mixed with the cedar wood of the closet and the steam from the shower.
Julian stiffened as she brushed past him. She was close. Too close. He was naked from the waist up. She was in a robe. The air in the closet suddenly felt very thin.
She bent down to pick up the red shoes. "I'll move the dress. But you need to relax. It's just clothes.
It's discipline,he corrected, watching the curve of her spine as she bent over. He quickly looked away, focusing intently on his tie rack. "Discipline in environment creates discipline in mind. A chaotic environment breeds errors.
And a sterile environment breeds robots," she retorted, standing up. She moved the tie-dye dress to the far end of her rack, creating a three-foot demilitarized zone between their wardrobes. "There. The Armani is safe from the infection.
She turned to leave, but stopped at the door, looking him up and down. Her gaze lingered for a split second on his chest, on the definition of muscle that his tailored suits usually hid.
Julian felt a strange heat rise up his neck. He wasn't used to being looked at. He was used to being listened to,
By the way,she said, her voice slightly huskier than before. "We have the photographer coming at 4:00 PM. Mario. He's the best in the city for 'candid' shots.
I know who Mario is," Julian said, gripping a silk tie tighter than necessary. I hired him.
Sterling leaked a rumor this morning," Elena added, her playfulness vanishing. "Page Six is running a blind item about a 'High-profile CEO sleeping in the guest room.' He knows, Julian.
Julian's jaw tightened. Sterling. Always watching.
Then we act," Julian said, his voice turning cold again. "We stage the Master Suite. We make it look like we share it.
That means my stuff needs to be in the bathroom too," she warned. "My face creams. My makeup. My towel next to yours.
Julian looked at his marble bathroom counter. He imagined it covered in bottles and jars.
Fine, he said. Just... try to keep the neon colors to a minimum.
No promises, she smirked, and walked out.
Julian stood alone in the closet. He looked at the empty space where she had been. He looked at his grey suits. For the first time in his life, they looked a little boring.