Page 9 of Love Me Stalk Me
Not that she shows it outright, but I catch the way her fingers tighten just slightly against the tablet in her hands before she exhales a quiet, controlled breath.
"I'd be happy to assist," she says evenly, shooting Daniel a brief glance before turning her full attention back to the client. "What kind of fit are you looking for?"
I know what she's doing. Redirecting. Trying to get the conversation back on track. But I also know exactly the sort of guy this is, and I know he's enjoying himself.
Daniel, the associate she was trying to pass him off to, stands a few feet away, clearly uncertain. He glances at Isabella once, like he's waiting for her to signal him to step in, but she doesn't.
Because she knows she can't.
Not without making it worse.
The client hums, finally looking at the suits like he actually gives a damn about them. "A cut that's classic, but not boring. I have an event coming up, and I need to look good. Not that I ever don't."
Isabella smiles just enough to be polite. "Of course."
I grind my teeth.
He's toying with her.
She knows it. I know it.
And neither of us can do a damnthing about it.
"This is a beautiful collection," Isabella says smoothly, gesturing to the designer suits draped over the armrest. "We just got the new season in last week. You'll be one of the first to experience it."
"Hmm," the man hums, his attention now turning fully to her. Too much attention.
Isabella doesn't fidget, doesn't retreat. She holds her position, shoulders squared, expression neutral. She's been here before.
"I have to say," the man continues, his voice casual, like they're old friends sharing an inside joke, "the customer service in this store is exceptional."
"I'm glad to hear that," she replies, still professional, but she’s got a tell. She adjusts the sleeves of her blazer, looking down.
"I mean it," the man insists, setting down his drink on the marble side table. "I always feel... taken care of here."
There it is. The shift.
I see it in the way his posture shifts—the subtle lean forward, the way his eyes skim her face and briefly dip before meeting hers again. He’s gauging her reaction, testing what she’ll allow.
She doesn't give him an inch.
"Customer satisfaction is a top priority for us," she says, keeping her voice even.
"That's good to hear. I always appreciate feeling satisfied."
It's subtle. Just a little too familiar, a little too comfortable.
And it's enough to make my grip tighten against the armrest of my chair.
Isabella shifts slightly, reaching for a nearby tablet, effectively putting a barrier between them. "Would you like me to have these tailored for you? I believe we have your measurements on file.”
The man watches her for a beat longer than necessary. “Such excellent customer service, as always. It’s why I ask for you specifically.”
He stands, reaching into his pocket for a black card, handing it over with the same lazy, confident ease as every man who's ever assumed he's untouchable.
She takes it, nodding once. "I'll have the transaction processed right away."
He holds onto it a second longer than he should before finally letting go.
