“I don’t want another tailor. I wantyou.”
Three simple words, yet their effect on me is overwhelming. My skin heats and the ache between my legs is suddenly too difficult to ignore. How am I supposed to respond to that?
“A thousand,” I tell him. “For a bespoke suit.”
Dominic’s brows furrow slightly. “That’s all?”
“I could make it two thousand, if that’s what you want?” I reply dryly.
“Make it five.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re underselling yourself.”
I cross my arms, feeling strangely defensive. “Youwantme to charge you more?”
“I want this to befair.” He reaches into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and pulls out a checkbook and pen. “I think four custom suits will more than cover me. I’ve seen your work. I think this amount reflects that.”
I’ve never experienced a heart attack before, so I have to assume that the uneven thud-thump of my heart can only mean I’m suffering from a serious cardiac event. Four suits at five thousand dollars? That means—
Dominic hands me the check without pomp or circumstance. To him, this is just another perfunctory shopping spree. To me, it’s my future career pinched between my shaking hands. His name is printed neatly in the top left-hand corner:Dominic Costello.
“Is this some kind of joke?” I ask him, staring at all the zeros he’s drawn.
“Do I look like I’m joking?”
“Wait a second. You wouldn’t give me a loan for twenty-grand, but you have no problem shelling out twenty-grand for a couple of suits?”
His jaw ticks. “I have my reasons.”
“Care to enlighten me?”
“Not particularly.”
I make a sound that’s half-laugh, half-huff. “I don’t know if that answer is going to fly, Dominic.”
“Do you make a habit of sassing your customers?”
“No, just you.”
The corner of his mouth pulls up into the smallest of amused grins. “I feel so special.”
“I can’t take your money.”
“Sure you can.”
“I… I feel guilty.”
“Why? I’m paying for a product upfront. You ask your other customers for a deposit on their dresses, don’t you?”
“Of course I do.”
“Then how is this any different? We’re even now. You won’t owe me anything except my suits.”
I want to keep arguing with him, but I don’t want to push my luck. Not when I finally have the money I need to get my fashion label off the ground. I’ve been working up to this moment for years, and I sure as hell know when I’m looking a gift horse in the mouth.
“Okay,” I whisper, clearing my throat so I can speak normally. “Four suits. You’ll need to come back tomorrow so I can get your measurements. Are you free around noon?”