Chapter 9

Harvey was beginning to seriously consider traffic lights an unnecessary invention, especially when they seemed determined to turn red exactly one second before he could make it across an intersection.

“Patience is a virtue. Patience is a virtue,” he repeated to himself, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel and glaring at the red light as though he could intimidate it into changing.

It didn't work.

The phrase did nothing to ease his impatience either, and when the light finally turned green, Harvey accelerated with such enthusiasm that he confirmed patience was still nowhere near becoming one of his defining qualities.

He arrived at the address Isabella had sent him a few minutes later and parked in the first available space. When he called to let her know he was outside, she burst into laughter before telling him she was coming to open the door.

“Were you just around the corner, or did you fly here?” Isabella asked as soon as she opened it.

Harvey stood looking at her, his phone still pressed to his ear, and instead of answering immediately, he stepped inside, forcing Isabella to move backward to let him through.

“Something like that.”

The speeding tickets would arrive later.

At the moment, they seemed like a problem for his future self.

Isabella closed the door, and Harvey took advantage of those few seconds to glance quickly around the place, although his attention soon returned to the woman standing in front of him.

“Isabella.”

“Harvey.”

There was no third word.

Harvey closed the distance between them in two strides, brought one hand to the back of her neck, and pulled her toward him as his mouth crashed against hers. Isabella barely had time to let out a surprised laugh before her back met the door she'd just closed.

The kiss was urgent, charged with several days of waiting and all the impatience Harvey had tried to conceal since that afternoon at the restaurant. Isabella responded with equal intensity, gripping his shirt as he pressed himself against her, until their need for air finally forced them apart.

Harvey remained close, slowly caressing her cheek with his thumb.

“And here I was, hoping you'd want to see the place before doing that,” Isabella said, a smile still lingering on her lips.

Harvey laughed and finally stepped back.

“Patience…”

“Isn't your virtue,” she finished for him.

“Exactly. But I'm willing to see the place before taking my clothes off.”

“I'm enormously grateful for your sacrifice, Mr. Sterling.”

This time, they both laughed.

Harvey took another step back and surveyed the space again, now giving it the attention Isabella had hoped for when she'd invited him. His gaze traveled over the interior facade, the still-unopened boxes, and the newly installed finishes before finally settling on the boutique's name.

“Maison Bell,” he read aloud.

Isabella waited. Harvey silently repeated the last word before turning his gaze back to her.

“Bell.”

“Indeed. I see you know how to read.”

He ignored the provocation as something seemed to click into place.

“Isabella.”

Isabella's smile changed.

“Took you long enough.”

“I just got here.”

“Excuses.”

Harvey laughed, but when he looked at the name again, there was a different kind of interest in his expression.

“I like it.”

“The name?”

“What it means, too.”

Isabella tilted her head slightly.

“And what does it mean, according to you?”

Harvey glanced around the boutique once more before looking back at her.

“That you didn't need to put your full name above the door to make all of this yours.”

Isabella fell silent for a moment. That wasn't quite the answer she'd expected.

“Very observant, Mr. Sterling.”

“Occasionally.”

“Come on. I'll show you around.”

Isabella began the tour in the main showroom, and Harvey followed as she explained where the first designs would be displayed, how she intended to arrange the storefront window, and what purpose each section of the boutique would serve.

As she spoke, something about her changed. Her hands moved animatedly as she explained; she pointed out details that probably wouldn't have seemed important to anyone else, and her enthusiasm emerged without the cynicism she usually used to protect almost everything else.

Harvey found himself paying more attention to her than to the boutique.

Until that moment, he'd known the Isabella who'd responded to news of her husband's infidelity by asking for the menu, the woman who could joke about her own marriage, and the one who'd provoked him until he'd ended up following her into a bathroom. This version was different. She was still confident and sharp-tongued, but when she spoke about Maison Bell, there was something far more transparent in her expression.

She was proud, and she had every reason to be.

“There's still so much to do,” Isabella explained as she led him toward the back. “Practically all the fabrics are still in boxes; I need to organize the workshop, and I'm still looking for people. If Matt turns out to be as good as I think he is, at least I'll have one person.”

“Matt?”

“A story for another time.”

Harvey raised an eyebrow but decided to let it go.

Isabella showed him her small office before opening the door to the room she'd had fitted out at the very back. Harvey stopped in the doorway and examined the cramped space, his attention settling particularly on the bed.

“That's a very small bed.”

“Thank you for pointing that out. I hadn't noticed.”

Harvey shot her a look before stepping inside.

“Why do you need a bed in a boutique?”

Isabella leaned one shoulder against the doorframe.

“Contingency plan.”

“That sounds worryingly ambiguous.”

“Intentionally so.”

Harvey looked around the tiny room again.

“I hope it's temporary.”

“So do I.”

There was enough sincerity in her answer to pique his curiosity, but before he could ask anything else, Isabella approached him and slowly traced a finger down his chest.

“Want to christen it?”

Harvey lowered his gaze to her.

“Do I get to choose where I want to christen the place?”

Isabella's expression immediately regained the mischievous quality he knew so well.

“I'll grant you the honor.”

“Much appreciated.”

Harvey took her hand and led her out of the room, making her follow him as he walked through the boutique once more. Isabella didn't ask what he was looking for; she simply allowed herself to be led, amused by the concentration with which he inspected every corner until he finally stopped.

That was when she understood.

In the center of the fitting room area, she'd installed several full-length mirrors at different angles so customers could examine the garments from every angle. Two fitting rooms facing each other opened onto the same space, where a pair of armchairs intended for accompanying guests stood around a small circular platform on which clients could try on their finished gowns.

Isabella looked at the mirrors, then at Harvey, one eyebrow slowly rising.

“This is where you want to christen the place?”

Harvey studied his reflection and then hers, their images multiplied in the mirrors surrounding them.

“Indeed. This is the spot.”

Isabella followed his gaze and immediately remembered another mirror, another place, and Harvey's insistence that she keep her eyes locked on his through their reflection.

His choice no longer seemed coincidental.

“I'm beginning to think you have a thing for mirrors, Mr. Sterling.”

“I'm beginning to think I like watching you in them, Mrs. Vaughn.”

His answer brought a smile to her lips.

“In that case, wait here. I'll be right back,” Isabella said, gesturing toward one of the armchairs.

“Should I be worried?”

“Probably.”

“Excellent.”

Harvey took a seat while Isabella walked toward one of the fitting rooms. Before disappearing behind the curtain, she turned to look at him.

“And no getting impatient.”

Harvey rested one arm along the back of the chair.

“Patience is a virtue.”

Isabella burst out laughing and closed the curtain.

Harvey smiled.

At last, that damned phrase was proving useful for something.