The penthouse was filled with stylists, assistants, and fashion consultants. Racks of clothes, ties, and custom shoes cluttered the usually plain living room.
But Arnold stared in the middle of the chaos like a statue.
Ariel was in her element.
"This one, definitely," she said, holding up a navy suit jacket with satin lapels. "It brings out the coolness in your eyes. Very prince-meets-power vibe."
Arnold didn't respond. He was seated, elbow on his knee, one hand rubbing the bridge of his nose.
Ariel clapped twice. "Arnold, I need you in the vibe if we're going to sell this."
He looked up slowly. "Do you even hear yourself?"
"Of course. I'm the only one with a plan around here. You're the one who let your name get tangled up with some coffee-fetching journalist."
His eyes darkened, but he didn't reply.
