HAZEL
The boutique smelled like money. That particular scent of expensive fabric, air conditioning and the faint trace of whatever cleaning solution they used on the marble floors. I ran my fingers along a rack of dresses. The silk whispered under my touch.
The new sentinel stood near the entrance. His posture was rigid. Alert. Like he expected danger to leap out from behind the mannequins. I had learned his name during the car ride. Baruch. It suited him. Earnest and straightforward and utterly boring.
I pulled a dress from the rack. Midnight blue with a plunging neckline. Too much for what I actually needed but I liked the way the fabric caught the light. I held it up against myself and glanced at Baruch. He was looking at the ceiling. At the walls. At literally anything except me.
"What do you think?" I asked.
His eyes flickered toward me for half a second. "It's nice, Luna Hazel."
"You barely looked at it."
"I'm sure whatever you choose will be appropriate."
