Chapter 8: The Fitting

Casper Froster had never owned a suit that fit.

He stood in the fitting room beside Felix's office, on the thirty-first floor, trying not to cry about it.

The tailor had measured him, murmured, and gone to fetch the jacket.

The room was all mirrors, warm wood and soft light.

Casper could see himself from six sides, thin and wide-eyed, in a white shirt that was not his.

Felix had brought him here on the second morning after the heat.

He had said, "The Ride family dinner is on Friday. You need a suit that belongs to you."

He had not said anything about the two days they had spent in the master bedroom.

Casper had not either.

The photo from the gala lift had been on every screen since the morning before.

Felix had looked at the line that said a family member, and said only: "Freddy."

Then he had put a pen in Casper's hand and told him to sign nothing, to say nothing, and to come and be measured.

But the whole building looked different now.

Every glass wall and every doorman who called Felix "sir" was part of a life Casper had never known his husband had.

Rowan had said Felix was a clerk with a good head for sums.

Casper did not understand this man yet.

He wanted to very badly.

"Stand straight," Felix said from the doorway.

Casper jumped.

Felix was leaning on the frame with his arms folded, in grey shirtsleeves, watching him.

"I am standing straight."

"You're curled. Like you're hoping nobody will notice you."

"I've had a lot of practice."

Felix came in and shut the door behind him with his foot.

The lock clicked.

"Let me see the trousers."

"They're stuck."

"What?"

"The zip." Casper felt his ears heat up. "It caught on the lining. I can't get it up and I can't get it down."

Felix's mouth twitched.

Keep reading free with an account. Start He Replaced His Groom, Then Begged for His Mate from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.