Chapter 1 ~ The Measurement
Chapter 1 ~ The Measurement
The boutique was still alive even at half past eight on a Saturday night. Soft golden lights glowed against the dark wooden shelves, and the quiet murmur of late customers mixed with the gentle rustle of fabric. Most of the VIP section had already emptied, but the main floor remained busy.
Leo was stuck with two regular clients who couldn’t decide between navy and charcoal. First, the senior tailor, glanced at the clock and then at Babe.
“Babe,” he called quietly. “Mr. Audison is coming. VVIP room. Uncle Sain already approved you for him. Don’t mess this up.”
Babe’s heart gave a small nervous jump. He nodded quickly, wiping his slightly damp palms on his black apron. He had only handled two VVIP clients before. Both times he had been careful to the point of trembling. Tonight, felt heavier for some reason.
The bell above the entrance chimed.
Porche Audison walked in like he owned the entire building which, in a way, he did. Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a perfectly fitted dark shirt with the sleeves rolled once. Pheem followed a step behind, tablet in hand.
Porche’s gaze swept the boutique once… and stopped.
Babe stood near the entrance of the VVIP section, soft dark-brown hair slightly messy from the long day, amber eyes wide and polite. The soft lighting made him look almost unreal delicate, pretty, like something that didn’t belong in the harsh world of business.
Porche’s steps slowed.
~What a beauty~
He stared for a full ten seconds. Long enough for Babe to notice and freeze under the weight of those dark eyes.
Pheem cleared his throat quietly. “Sir?”
Porche finally moved. “The usual. New suit. Meeting tonight.”
First hurried forward, but Porche’s eyes never left Babe.
“He’ll do it,” Porche said, voice low and calm. He tilted his chin toward Babe. “The boy.”
Babe’s throat went dry. He bowed slightly. “G…good evening, sir. Please, this way.”
He led Porche into the private VVIP room. The door closed with a soft click, shutting out the noise of the boutique. The room was quiet, elegant, with a long mirror and a low platform.
Babe picked up the measuring tape, trying to steady his breathing.
“Shoulder width first, sir,” he said softly.
Porche stepped onto the platform. He was so tall that Babe had to look up. When Babe raised his arms to measure the shoulders, his fingers brushed the expensive fabric of Porche’s shirt. A faint scent of cigarette smoke and something darker expensive cologne filled the small space between them.
Babe’s hands were already slightly unsteady.
Porche watched him the entire time. Not the measurements. Him.
“Nervous?” Porche asked, voice smooth.
“N…no, sir. Just focused.”
Porche’s mouth curved faintly. “Is that so?”
He shifted his weight deliberately when Babe measured his chest. The tape jumped. Babe frowned, tried again. His fingers trembled more this time. Porche leaned a fraction closer, enough that his breath ghosted against Babe’s temple.
“A little close, aren’t we?” Porche murmured.
Babe’s ears burned. “Strictly professional, sir.”
But his hands betrayed him. The numbers he wrote down were already wrong. He knew it. He just couldn’t force his fingers to stay steady while Porche kept looking at him like that like he was something to be claimed rather than measured.
When the last measurement was taken, Porche stepped down.
“Perfection,” he said quietly. “I expect nothing less.”
Babe could only nod, heart hammering.
Two days later, the suit was ready.
Porche returned at night, after his meetings. The boutique was quieter. Babe waited in the VVIP room with the garment bag, hope and anxiety twisting in his stomach.
Porche stepped into the suit. The moment he moved, the problem was obvious. The chest was too tight, the waist too loose. The cut was wrong in ways that no professional suit should ever be.
Porche’s expression didn’t change at first. He simply looked at himself in the mirror, then at Babe.
“Does this look perfect to you?”
Babe’s face went pale. “I… the measurements were…”
“Exact?” Porche’s voice dropped, cold and sharp. He shrugged the jacket off and threw it onto the chair. The expensive fabric made a soft, expensive sound. “I have a meeting that starts in less than two hours. This is what you give me?”
“I can fix it,” Babe said quickly, voice already shaking. “Please, just give me a little time…”
Porche stepped closer. The height difference forced Babe to tilt his head back.
“This suit, the fabric, and my time are worth more than your entire yearly salary.” His eyes were dark, almost black under the lights. “You can’t pay me back in money. And I highly doubt your boss will keep an employee who costs him a client like me.”
Babe’s breath caught.
Porche continued, almost gently, “I can also make sure no boutique in this city will hire you again. And your friend Willy… his mother’s company and mine share certain interests. It would be a shame if those interests were… disturbed.”
Babe’s knees felt weak. He sank into the chair behind him.
“You’re ruining my life…” he whispered.
Porche knelt in front of him so their eyes were level. The sudden nearness made Babe’s whole-body tense.
“Or,” Porche said softly, “I’m giving you a new one. You will work for me. Under my rules. Personal assistant. Errand boy. Whatever I need you to be.” His gaze dropped briefly to Babe’s mouth, then returned to his eyes. “My slave, if we want to be honest.”
Babe shook his head once, but there was no real strength left in it.
Porche stood, adjusting his cuffs as if the matter was already settled.
“I’ll come for you tonight. Eleven. Be ready.”
At exactly eleven, a black car stopped in front of the small apartment Babe shared with Willy (who was already asleep, just like Babe had told him earlier).
Porche didn’t get out. The back door simply opened.
Babe stood on the sidewalk for a long second, bag in hand, heart slamming against his ribs. Then he climbed in.
The door closed. The car pulled away into the night.
Neither of them spokes during the drive. Babe kept his eyes on his hands. Porche watched him in the reflection of the window, expression unreadable, a faint scent of cigarette smoke lingering in the quiet air.
When the car finally stopped, the gates of a large mansion opened silently.
Porche stepped out first. He didn’t look back as he walked toward the heavy front doors.
“Come,” he said.
Babe followed.
The doors closed behind them with a deep, final sound.
Inside, the entrance hall was vast and dimly lit. Marble floors. High ceilings. The kind of quiet that belonged to people who never needed to raise their voices.
Porche turned to face him fully for the first time since the boutique.
“From tonight,” he said, voice low and absolute, “you belong to me.”
Babe’s amber eyes were wide, shining with fear and something else he didn’t have a name for yet. His body had already started to tremble the way it always did when Porche stood too close.
Porche reached out and brushed a strand of soft dark-brown hair away from Babe’s face. The touch was almost gentle.
Almost.
“Welcome home.”
(End of Chapter 1)
