Vanessa
I don't like the way he looks at me; it's not just any look. It's not superficial, or casual, or one of those looks that get lost in the obvious.
Alexander… he doesn't look like that. He observes. He analyzes. He measures… And that… I love it, but it also puts me on edge.
I'm standing in front of the dressing room mirror, arranging the new blouse I finally agreed to buy. He insisted too much for me to refuse. White, simple, but elegant. Very much his style… or perhaps hers, Clara's.
My reflection gives me a slight smile, but my eyes don't smile, because I can't stop thinking about what just happened.
"It looks good on you," his voice says from behind me.
I look up from the mirror.
He's leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching me with a tranquility I don't quit
