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Franziska pulled the car to a stop, making sure to park it perfectly parallel on the street side, the old brick building looming in front of her. Her passenger was sitting quietly staring listlessly out the window, though what he was looking at, she couldn't be sure.
She checked the clock, noticing how she was five minutes early. Perfect as always.
"Pierre is waiting." She said softly, but firmly to the man. "Let's go."
The man in the passenger seat, sighed, running a hand through his light hair, "Franziska, is this really necessary?"
She narrowed her eyes. "What are you implying?"
He stared at her steadily, gaze hidden behind a pair of sunglasses but she was sure it was scornful. "I'm implying that I already have nice suits at home."
She scoffed. "I will not be caught dead marrying a man who is wearing anything less than the most perfectly tailored suit that money can afford. How utterly foolish of you to think otherwise." And then she dipped her head, ordering, "Now come."
She didn't wait for him to answer as she got out of the car but she did smirk to herself proudly at the dutifully muttered, "Yes, ma'am" along with the sound of him following her obediently.
"Ah, bonjour!" A short, round man with an impressive mustache greeted.
Now, had Franziska still been 19 years old, she likely would've ignored the greeting and instead gotten straight to the point. But she was 30 now and she had learned that oftentimes exchanging pleasantries would get you much further.
"Bonjour, Pierre," she greeted. "I had an appointment today. Franziska von Karma."
"Ahh, Ms. von Karma, wonderful to see you again."
She felt her lips twitch. "Likewise."
The cheery man nodded to her partner. "This is the lucky man?"
"Indeed." And then she narrowed her eyes slightly. "I trust you will not miss a single detail."
"Oui, oui, of course," he responded briskly, already circling her fiance behind her with a critical eye, "You will not be disappointed, Madame."
"I should hope not."
Pierre grabbed her fiance's arm, dragging him towards the back, and seeing how much taller he was than the rotund shopkeeper was almost comical. Her partner paused to raise a sardonic eyebrow and Pierre huffed. "Come, Monsieur. There is work to be done."
The last look he gave her before he was out of sight let her know that she would pay for this later in more ways than one, but she pretended to be very fascinated by her own cuticles so as not to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.
She kept herself busy by scrolling through her social media, catching up on some of the whereabouts on her mutual acquaintances and reacting accordingly. She saw a video clip of one of Trucy Wright's magic shows and while she thought the idea of such fanfare was foolish, she could admit it was impressive. For someone so young, she was already quite accomplished and Franziska respected that.
After what was atleast 45 minutes of mindless scrolling, she heard a throat clear in front of her and looked up.
Pierre stood in front of her, bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement, but that wasn't what caught her eye. What really got her attention was the much taller man next to him, wearing a suit so perfectly formed to his body that it was criminal. She felt her eyes rove up slowly, his long legs going for miles, every angle and crevice in his lean form, from the dip in his hip all the way up to his chest, perfectly accentuated.
It was when she finally got up to his face and saw the smug look that she realized she might have made a miscalculation.
He grinned cockily, the scar across his nose stretching further. "Like what you see, babe?"
She twitched at the pet name, knowing full well he was trying to rile her up, and came back to her senses. How obscene to be caught ogling her partner in public. That simply wouldn't do.
She cleared her throat, face hot. "It's...acceptable." His grin only got wider and she suddenly had the urge to punch him.
Pierre was either unaware of the silent conversation transpiring or just didn't care as he clapped his hands. "Wonderful! This was just a sample of course to meet your approval. The real thing should be ready in about 4-6 weeks. Will that be acceptable, Madame?"
She nodded curtly, not feeling words were needed. This was evidently a mistake as Pierre gave a sly grin. "I must say, Madame, your fiance cuts a rather fine figure." And then he had the audacity to wink at her.
She looked at her fiance again, who preened under the praise and had to forcibly look away before she made a fool of herself again. Of course he looked incredible like she knew he would, but she refused to tell him that out loud on principle. He was already annoyingly cocky even at the best of times.
"That will do, Pierre. You may put the order in. I trust you will call me of course when it is finished."
Back into business mode, the stout man nodded. "Of course, Madame. And what is the lucky monsieur's name?"
She allowed herself to smile fondly at her future husband this time, her sharp eyes directly meeting his, and twirling the ring on her finger as she answered, "Armando. Diego Armando."