"What happened to you saying, 'I looked fine?'" Wesley questioned as we pulled into the mall's parking lot.

"You do look fine," I replied, cutting the engine and glancing over at him. "But there's a difference between 'fine' and turning heads when you walk into a room."

Wesley gave me a skeptical look. "I'm not trying to turn heads. I just want to blend in and not look homeless."

"And in a normal situation that would be perfectly acceptable. More than, actually. But we already established the fact that we are not in a normal situation, no?" I asked as I unbuckled my seatbelt. "It is nothing against you personally, Wesley, but you need to look the part if we are going to finish this deal."

"Right." He blew a breath but got out of the car nonetheless, so I followed suit. "And remind me how you managed to make sure I could attend this event with you in the first place? You conveniently forgot to mention it."

I smiled, knowing he was referring to his job. I could tell him the truth—that I threatened his boss with a dirty little secret he wasn't ready for the world, or his wife, to know about—but I don't because, knowing Wesley, he'd somehow find it in his heart to feel bad for the guy. Instead, I decided to lie.

"Money truly can buy anything."

Wesley rolled his eyes. "Of course. I don't know why I bothered asking."

"Enough of that. Come on, the more time we spend out here, the more time you have to spend trying on outfits, and surely you don't want that."

He frowned. "Do I have to try them on? Can't you just...I don't know, pick something and we leave it at that?"

I gave Wesley a pointed look, crossing my arms as I stepped closer. "That's not how this works. You can't just grab something off the rack and hope for the best. It has to fit. Properly."

"It's not that deep," he muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"It is if you don't want to look like you're playing dress-up," I countered. "Trust me, Wesley, once you're in the right outfit, you'll feel the difference. Now, stop complaining."

He sighed, clearly resigned to his fate, and followed me inside.

We were instantly swallowed into the swarm of shoppers roaming around. Wesley looked as though he was trying to take everything in, but I didn't share the same curiosity. I led him through the mall and past all the fast fashion stores and wannabe wealthy apparel to a small shop tucked into the back of the mall.

I pulled Wesley inside and he took a brief Look around the small shop before turning back to me with his mouth parted to speak. I already knew he was going to ask where were we in typical Wesley fashion, but he didn't get the chance to when the shopkeeper, an older man with sharp eyes and a knowing smile, approached us.

"Manolo," the shopkeeper greeted warmly, his voice tinged with a faint accent. "It's been too long. What brings you here today?"

"Rafael," I replied, shaking his hand firmly. "I'm here on business—and I need your expertise." I gestured toward Wesley, who looked entirely out of place and a bit like a deer caught in headlights. "My friend here needs a wardrobe upgrade."

Rafael's gaze shifted to Wesley, assessing him with a practiced eye. Wesley immediately tensed, standing a little straighter under the man's scrutiny.

"I see," Rafael said after a moment, his lips curving into a small smile. "I think I have just the thing. Come, let's get started."

Wesley shot me a glare. "What does he mean, 'get started'? You're making this sound like a military operation."

I shook my head, giving him a nudge toward Rafael. "It's more like art, Wesley. Just trust the process."

Wesley glanced back at me one last time before he started walking forward. I trailed slightly behind to look at the other articles of clothing displayed around the shop, but not too far to the point where I couldn't hear Rafael's questions.

"So what exactly are we looking for today? Something simple or something that makes a statement?" Rafael asked, pulling out a measuring tape as he gestured for Wesley to stand straight.

"Something simple," Wesley stated.

"Something that makes a statement," I countered at the same time.

Rafael chuckled, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. "How about we find a balance? Classic, but with a touch of flair."

Wesley muttered something under his breath but stood still as Rafael measured his shoulders and chest. "I don't see why this has to be so elaborate," Wesley grumbled. "I'm just tagging along to help you close the deal, not to be the center of attention."

"Ah, but appearances matter," Rafael said knowingly. "Even if you're in the background, people will notice when you look the part. Trust me, my friend."

Wesley didn't look convinced, but he held his tongue as Rafael began pulling options from the racks.

The first outfit was a classic charcoal gray suit paired with a crisp white shirt. Wesley stepped out of the fitting room, tugging awkwardly at the sleeves. "It's...fine, I guess?"

I studied him, tilting my head. "It's good," I said slowly. "But not great. Too safe."

Rafael nodded in agreement. "We can do better."

Wesley rolled his eyes and retreated into the fitting room. The next attempt was a navy blazer paired with tailored black trousers and a pale gray turtleneck. He stepped out, fidgeting less this time, but still looking unsure.

I crossed my arms, a smile tugging at my lips. "Now we're getting somewhere."

"It's warm," Wesley muttered, pulling lightly at the turtleneck. "And I feel like someone's going to ask me to host a TED Talk."

I couldn't help but laugh. "Fair enough. Let's keep going."

Rafael grinned, clearly enjoying the challenge. "I have just the thing. One moment."

Rafael disappeared into the back while Wesley and I waited.

Wesley sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets. "This feels ridiculous," he muttered, glancing at me. "I don't even know why I'm letting you drag me into this."

"Because deep, deep down, you trust me," I said, leaning casually against the counter. "And because you know I'm right."

He rolled his eyes but didn't argue. Instead, his gaze drifted around the shop, landing on a mannequin dressed in a sharp three-piece suit with a patterned pocket square. "Do people really wear stuff like this? Feels over-the-top."

I followed his gaze. "Depends on the person. Confidence makes the outfit. You could pull it off if you stopped acting like someone's forcing you into it."

"Easy for you to say," Wesley replied, his voice tinged with sarcasm. "You probably came out of the womb wearing designer clothes."

I snorted. "Not quite, but close enough. You'll thank me when you arrive and people actually treat you with respect instead of acting as if you're a charity case."

"Sure," he replied, clearly unconvinced.

Rafael returned, his arms full of neatly folded clothing. "I think I've found something that will suit you perfectly," he said, his grin wide and knowing. He held up a sleek cobalt blue suit with a subtle sheen that contrasted against Wesley's fair skin and blond hair. It wasn't too loud, but the color would make his blue eyes stand out even more, drawing attention in a way that was impossible to ignore.

"Try it on," I instructed while still eyeing the suit.

He sighed, taking the suit from Rafael's hands and heading back to the fitting room.

A few minutes later, the fitting room door creaked open, and Wesley stepped out, looking different. The moment he emerged, my breath caught in my throat. The suit fit him perfectly—sharp, clean lines that showed off his frame, the color making his blue eyes stand out even more. He looked effortlessly stylish, like someone who belonged in a room full of high-profile people, even if he didn't realize it himself yet.

"Well?" he asked, tugging at the lapels, clearly still unsure of himself.

I couldn't help the smile that spread across my face. "Now that is what I'm talking about."

Wesley met my gaze in the mirror, his eyes widening slightly as he took in his reflection. "Okay, I admit it. This doesn't look half bad."

I chuckled, stepping closer to adjust the lapel just a bit, my fingers brushing his chest. "It's more than 'not bad,' Wesley. You look damn good."

His cheeks flushed a little, and he seemed to grow a bit more aware of the attention his new look commanded. There was still a bit of hesitancy in his stance, but I could see the subtle shift in his demeanor. He was starting to feel it—starting to feel like he belonged in this new skin.

Rafael watched from a distance, his eyes gleaming with approval. "This is the look, Manolo. You've got yourself a winner."

I nodded, my gaze still on Wesley, who was now eyeing himself from every angle. I could tell he was getting more comfortable with the image, though it wasn't perfect just yet. He just needed a little more confidence to match.

"Alright," I said, clapping him on the back. "You're good to go. You're not just a bystander anymore. You're part of the conversation now."

Wesley rolled his eyes, though I caught the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "If you say so."

I turned to Rafael, "We'll take it. All of it."

Rafael gave us a wink. "I'll make sure everything is ready for you."

Rafael disappeared and I watched as Wesley continued to look himself over. His earlier grumbling had faded into acceptance, and I could tell he was starting to enjoy himself which was a good sign—a great one even because it meant he'd likely be more tolerant to my next move.

Reaching up, I started using my hand to try and style his hair, which was far more obedient than my own. His blue eyes focused on me in the mirror and his breath hitched slightly but he didn't stop me.

When I finished and stepped back, he immediately asked, "How does it look?"

And for the first time, I had nothing to say. Not because it looked bad, but because of the complete opposite. He looked...incredible. He was already handsome, but now...

Now he looked far better than I'd initially expected or given credit for.

"Manolo?" Wesley called, pulling me from my thoughts.

I coughed and said, "It looks...perfect."

"Perfect?" He repeated with a slight red hue on his face.

"Perfect," I repeated with more confidence. "It looks perfect—you look perfect."

For a moment neither of us said anything. Wesley held my gaze as if trying to search my eyes and see if I was being truthful or not. It was only when Rafael returned that we finally glanced away from one another and even that proved to be difficult.

After paying and promising to visit again, Wesley changed back into his normal attire and we left the shop. Unlike when we first entered, Wesley didn't look around with a curious glint on his face. Instead, those ocean-blue eyes focused on me.

And, unlike before, I didn't pay minimum attention to him. I was acutely aware of his stare and a part of me reveled in it.