The next day, walking into Benedict's office again, I'd pulled myself together from yesterday's mess and exhaustion.
He glanced up, his gaze sweeping me from head to toe, and said quietly,
"The clothes in the house are yours to wear too. They should all fit."
"Except the gowns." He added that specifically.
Then he shot a look at his assistant, and Miles scrambled out the door.
I walked up to Benedict. "Understood, Mr. Fox. I'll play the part of a beautiful girlfriend."
I pointed at the proposal he'd been reviewing.
"But as your highest-value current girlfriend, I'd suggest you rethink your brand positioning for the fashion label."
Benedict laughed in spite of himself and tossed the folder onto the desk. "And you're back at it."
"Never stopped." I raised an eyebrow, stepped around the desk, and stood right in front of him.
"Whether my suit has wrinkles or a dress doesn't quite hug my figure, I know who I am, and I know what I bring to the table for you."
Benedict leaned forward, barely perceptible. "There's a cocktail reception tonight. Livestreamed, start to finish. Show me what you bring to the table."