Noah
I frowned, my suspicion flaring instantly. "What was that?"
Cyan blinked innocently, his face a picture of total purity. "What was what, darling?"
"That look," I said, glaring at them. "You two just did a look."
"We didn't do a look," Étienne said, smoothing down his silk scarf with a practiced, airy gesture. "I don't do looks. They cause wrinkles."
"There was absolutely a look," I insisted, my face burning hotter by the second.
Neither of them answered, which was an answer all on its own. They just stood there smiling at me like a pair of well-dressed cats that had successfully cornered a mouse.
"I'm taking it off," I snapped, pulling the curtain back toward the wall.
"We're buying it!" Cyan called out over the fabric.
"I will NEVER wear this anywhere!" I shouted from behind the velvet.
