She pointed at the work boots he’d paired with the suit.

“My dress shoes fell apart a couple of years ago.” He sighed. “I used to wear this suit to the office. I haven’t exactly had need of a suit for some time.”

She closed her eyes and pressed a delicate fingertip to the bridge of her nose. “Okay. We’re going to George Street anyway. I’ll add suit shopping to our itinerary. We have a little bit of time before the afternoon tea.”

“Oh no,” he said. “I’m not paying an arm and a leg for something we can get for a fraction of the price at Bodotria Commercial Center.”

He was being unnecessarily mulish, but he hated this shite. He’d thought he was well done with this kind of rubbish after quitting his job, but here he was, semi-willingly allowing himself to be pulled back in. Portia was looking at him with an expression he’d seen several times before Greer had finally broken down and asked for a divorce.

No, this is totally different. He couldn’t compare Portia to his ex-wife because of his own insecurities. She was there trying to help him, and Greer had been trying to help him as best she’d known how.

“I’ll pay for the suit, so you don’t have to worry about the cost,” she said, slipping her phone into her handbag. “Our SuperLift is outside.”

She moved past him and made her way to the car idling out front. Kevyn sat behind the wheel. Great. So he’d have an audience for his humiliation.

He stalked up beside her and placed a hand on the car’s roof. “I could have driven us,” he said.

“You can drive?” She seemed genuinely surprised.

“Everyone can drive!”

“I can’t. Oh, that’s right, you make the deliveries . . . well, this was a simple communication error. Noted for next time. Now let’s go.” She slid under his arm and pulled the door open. After wrestling with the passenger seat, she pulled it down and forward.

“After you.” She gave him a bright smile and he pulled a face as he smushed himself into the backseat. Portia adjusted the front seat and settled herself in.

“Hey, Kevyn,” she said sweetly, and the git had the nerve to be blushing when he turned to face her.

“How’s it going, love?”

“How are the wife and wean, Kevvo?” Tav asked, shoving his face forward between them.

Kevyn grimaced. “Hey, Tav. They’re good, they are.” He turned his face back toward the road.

“The Armani shop please,” Portia said.

“Ohhh, fancy!” Kevyn put the car into gear and pulled out into traffic.

Tav sucked in a breath. “No. I’m not buying a new suit and you definitely aren’t paying for it,” he attempted to whisper.

She looked back at him and his gut clenched at the annoyance in her gaze. She was rich. They both knew it. But this was not one of those moments where she needed to remind him of it.

“I know that this feels really shitty,” she said, surprising him. “I’ve had problems with forcing my goodwill on people in the past, and I know it doesn’t always have the intended result. But I have a concrete reason for paying for this suit. I’m the one who got you into this situation.”

“No, technically that was Mum and this Dudgeon wanker.”

“Tavish.” She batted those lashes of hers, like he’d be doing her a favor by letting her buy him an overpriced suit.

“This still just doesn’t sit right with me.”

She gave him a look. “Tell me how you’re feeling right now. Agitated? Uncomfortable?”

“Bloody right I’m uncomfortable!”

She grinned. “Why?”

“Because I’m stuffed into this suit like a goddamn wanker—”

She held up a finger. “So. This suit makes you feel like a wanker. Going to the meeting tomorrow is going to be stressful enough, don’t you want to wear something that makes you feel confident?”

“I don’t see how a suit—”

She pushed her finger closer. “When you fight in an exhibition, you choose the clothing that allows you greatest range of motion while keeping you safe. Yes or no?”

He nodded and his nose brushed the tip of her finger. She blinked rapidly, but didn’t move her hand.

“If this thing happens, you need to think about your presence. What you’re projecting. If you walk in looking like a sulky child in an ill-fitting suit, they’re going to treat you like one. If you show up looking like a polished, sexy man who is doing them a favor by bestowing his presence on them, they’ll respond to that, too.”

He thought about how Portia was always perfectly done up, even when doing inventory. And how he had still dismissed her from the beginning.

“So, a posh suit is a bit like donning armor,” he said, and her features brightened in relief.

“Yes. I’m your squire and I’m going to make sure you’re outfitted in the best fucking armor possible. You’re going to need it.”

She leaned back in her seat, and Tav did the same. He stared at the rust-gold curls that rested on her shoulders and wished she was sitting next to him, and that it wouldn’t be strange for him to take her hand in his.

“Wait. Did you just call Tav sexy?” Kevyn asked helpfully from the driver’s seat. “Because it sounded like you just called him sexy.”