He Divorced Me in Front of Four Hundred People, So I Moved Into His Rival's Glass Penthouse novel · Chapter 6 of 24

Chapter 6: Three Mirrors

The boutique owner put me in the biggest fitting room she had and shut the velvet curtain on Leighton with a look of great respect.

It was a room the size of my first apartment, with a plush bench and a gold rail.

One wall was a three-way mirror that showed me from the front and both sides.

I needed a dress for the sixtieth floor of Hartigan Tower.

I had been lying to myself for twenty minutes that this was only an errand.

The first dress was black and plain.

I stepped out in it onto the little stage in front of the curtain.

Leighton, in the corner chair, looked at the hem and said nothing at all.

The second was green.

He looked at my shoulders.

The third was a long column of deep red silk, cut low across the chest and slit to the hip.

I zipped it myself and stood in front of the three mirrors with my hair loose and my heart going.

The cut pushed my breasts up into a deep shadow.

Three women looked back at me.

All three of them looked like they knew exactly what they wanted.

"Come in," I said. "I need a second opinion."

The curtain moved, and he came in and let it fall.

The room got smaller.

He stood a yard behind me with his hands in his pockets, and he looked at the three of me.

He looked at the one on the left, then at the one on the right.

He did not look at the one in the middle.

"Turn," he said.

I turned slowly, one full circle, with the silk swishing against my thighs.

"Slower."

I slowed down until the room swam.

"Stop," he said. "Face the side glass. Put your hand on your hip."

I did.

In the mirror I watched him look at my waist, my thigh in the slit of the skirt, my bare shoulder.

It felt like his hand.

"You've gone pink," he said.

"You're giving orders."

"Do you mind?"

"I'm thinking about it."

I turned around to face him, and I put my hand flat on his chest.

"Sit down on the bench, Leighton."

His eyes flickered.

"Is that an order?"

"Sit."

He sat on the plush bench with his back against the mirror wall and his long legs apart.

I stood over him in red silk with the three-way mirror behind me.

Every inch of my back and both my sides showed in the glass past his shoulders.

"Don't touch me," I said. "Not until I say."

"Margo."

"Not until I say."

He put his hands flat on his thighs.

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