Just as Sullivan prepared to take her measurements, the assistant reentered, pushing racks of gowns into the room. Each rack was color-coordinated: vivid reds, rich blacks, bold blues, elegant whites.
"Pick your favorite," the assistant said brightly.
"Pam, honey," Sullivan interjected. "We're measuring first. Take those back."
"Of course." The assistant smiled and rolled the racks away without complaint.
Heather felt a twinge of overwhelm as her gaze lingered on the sheer number of clothes. It was suffocating. She was reminded of the chaos on set, where ten different opinions would bombard her at once about what outfit suited a role best.
"Mr. Thorne," Sullivan said with a dramatic wave of his hand, "be a gentleman and hold this fabric over her. I wouldn't want the poor woman standing here in her undies."
Heather's eyes flicked toward him, her expression unimpressed. "I'll just go behind the curtain," she said in a sharp tone.
"If you like," Sullivan replied with a casual shrug. "Either way, you'll still be in your undies."
Heather let out an audible sigh. She couldn't understand why this moment felt so awkward, but it did.
"Go ahead, take it off," he said, his voice as calm as if he was trying to tease.
Heather's frown deepened. Is this some sort of game to him? She bent slightly to begin unbuttoning her blouse, her movements stiff. But as she started, she felt his gaze settle on her—unwavering and unapologetic.
"Would you give me privacy?" she snapped, her irritation was clear.
A flicker of amusement crossed Caius's face, and she could see the edge of a smile he was holding back. Obediently, he turned slightly, his back now fully to her, still holding the fabric as requested, but Heather wasn't convinced. Even with his back turned, the weight of his presence felt intrusive so she hesitated.
"Are you done?" Caius asked.
"No. Give me a second. And don't you dare turn back."
"It's not like I haven't seen you naked before," Caius whispered, his voice low enough to be unsettling but loud enough to make her cheeks flush in embarrassment.
The heat rushed to her face, and she clenched her fists. What is wrong with him? She wanted to bite back with something equally cutting, but the words refused to form. She was both embarrassed and angry at the same time. Keep it together, she told herself.
The awkwardness was suffocating. She focused on her breathing, trying to calm herself down. She'd always prided herself on her composure, but Caius had an infuriating ability to break through her defenses.
It's just like wearing bikini, she finally thought, though the reassurance didn't do much. The moment still felt far too personal—far too vulnerable. Still, she steeled herself and removed her blouse. She was going to brush off Caius's presence like it meant nothing. Cause it did. Then she slipped out of her pants.
Sullivan's eyes lit up as he handed her a tight-fitting bodycon jumpsuit. It hugged her curves like a second skin, leaving little to the imagination.
"Wow," Sullivan said with a grin. "Okay, come over."
Heather walked over hesitantly.
"Arms up," he instructed, pulling a measuring tape from his pocket. He moved quickly, his head level with her chest as he measured her torso. Heather instinctively cupped her hands over her chest, feeling exposed.
"Your hands need to be at your sides," he said.
She dropped her arms reluctantly. "Spread your legs slightly," he added, crouching to measure her hips and thighs.
From across the room, Caius cleared his throat loudly. Heather glanced over. His face was dark and unreadable, his jaw tight. Why is he holding onto the tape so long? Caius thought irritably. And why isn't she saying anything about his face close to her... down there?
Caius flexed his fingers slightly at his sides. "Aren't you done yet?" He asked.
Sullivan glanced up briefly. "Not quite," he said simply, ignoring the tension in the room.
"Alright, turn around," he instructed Heather.
She turned to face Caius directly. His eyes locked on hers, as if he were avoiding looking anywhere else. Sullivan's phone rang.
"Excuse me," he said, stepping out to take the call.
The room fell into silence. Caius's gaze was still fixed on hers, and it took everything in her to hold her composure.
"Why are you really here?" she asked finally.
Caius stepped closer, taking his time before replying. "I'm not here for you, if that's what you're thinking."
"I know better," she replied flatly.
"My sisters deserve gifts, don't they?"
Heather let out a dry laugh, the bitterness laced through it unmistakable. "Sisters you never mentioned before." The humorless chuckle hung in the air between them, but she couldn't understand why it had escaped her. It wasn't amusement, it was something darker—resentment.
She turned her attention away from him, her eyes landing on a striking blue gown displayed on a nearby mannequin. "I like this one," she said, her tone light but deliberate.
"Try it on,"
She lingered for a moment before slipping into the gown. The fabric hugged her curves perfectly, emphasizing her figure without being overly tight. The deep V-cut at the front revealed just enough to be alluring while remaining elegant. Heather turned her back to Caius as she admired herself in the mirror at the corner.
After a pause, she turned to face Caius. "How does it look?" she asked.
He leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed. "It's fine," he said flatly, barely sparing her a glance—or so it seemed.
Heather frowned at his lack of enthusiasm. "That's not exactly helpful," she muttered, turning back toward the mirror.
When her attention shifted back to her reflection, Caius's gaze softened, his eyes lingered on her figure. He watched her quietly, taking in how the gown accentuated every line and curve, but his face betrayed none of it when she glanced his way again.
She caught his indifferent shrug. "It's just a dress," he said.
"Right. Just a dress," she echoed dryly. She turned back toward the mirror, adjusting the neckline slightly.
"Are you sure it's not too much? I mean, it's just a party." She asked from behind.
Caius shrugged again, more stiffly this time. "Does it matter what I think?"
Heather rolled her eyes. "Not really. But I still need a different perspective. Especially the bad ones."
His eyes dropped immediately to the neckline of the gown, lingering on her exposed skin. The V-cut revealed just enough to draw attention without being overt. There was something about the way the fabric teased at the edge of propriety, the way it clung effortlessly to her figure, that held his attention longer than he cared to admit. He cleared his throat quietly, forcing himself to look away as she turned around again.
"What's wrong?" she asked, catching the direction of his focus.
"I don't think you should wear that," he said finally.
Heather followed his gaze, glancing down at herself. "Oh," she murmured.
"It's revealing too much," Caius added. "You don't want people looking at places they don't own."
"I like it." She said firmly.
"If you cover the front with something, anything," Caius said, softening slightly, "it wouldn't be too bad."
"You think it's bad?"
"That's just my opinion." He shrugged.
Heather didn't miss the shift in his tone, but she didn't care. "I like it like this," she shot back, her hands adjusting the neckline slightly to reveal even more.
Caius's face darkened as he looked away.
Sullivan returned, carrying a sketchpad tucked under his arm. He stopped mid-step when he caught sight of her in the dress. "I see you've found my best-kept secret," he said with a sly smile, setting the pad down on a nearby table.
Heather let out a light laugh, her fingers brushing the deep V-neckline. "I don't know… Caius thinks it might be too much."
"Too much?" Sullivan arched a brow, leaning against one of the mannequins. "Darling, that dress was made to turn heads. Don't let anyone—including Mr. CEO over there—tell you otherwise."
Caius, who was leaning against the wall, stiffened at the jab. He kept his eyes trained elsewhere, though Heather swore she saw his jaw clench slightly.
Heather let her gaze linger on her reflection. "It's stunning, but…" she trailed off, biting her lip.
"Second-guessing isn't your style," Sullivan said, crossing his arms. "Take it. If it's not you, then who?"
Heather smirked faintly at his confidence, but before she could respond, Caius spoke. "You've already decided," he said. "It's obvious."
Her head tilted slightly as she studied him. "Is that your way of saying I should buy it?"
Caius shrugged, his tone nonchalant. "I'm saying you've made up your mind. You wouldn't still be wearing it otherwise."
Heather rolled her eyes at his certainty but couldn't deny he was right. She turned back to the mirror.
"It looks lovely on you, Miss Heather." The assistant who had just walked in, spoked like she was eavesdropping.
After a moment, she glanced at Sullivan, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I'll take it," she said decisively, her fingers brushing the fabric once more.
Sullivan clapped his hands together, his grin wide and genuine. "Atta girl!"
"I still want you to make something special for me with the measurement you took." Heather said, handing him Caius's card, the assistant appearing swiftly to package the gown.
Sullivan nodded and they left his house.