"Here, try this skirt too," Camille insisted, holding up a sleek black pencil skirt. "It'll look perfect with that blouse."
I stared at the expensive designer piece, the price tag probably worth more than my entire wardrobe. "Camille, the blouse is more than enough—"
"Please," she interrupted, pressing the skirt into my hands. "I bought it on impulse but never wore it. The cut would suit your figure better anyway."
Her generosity was like salt in an open wound. I wanted to hate her, but she was making it impossible with her genuine kindness.
"Fine," I relented, taking the skirt. "But this is the last thing I'm accepting."
Camille beamed. "Perfect! I'll give you some privacy to change." She headed toward the door, pausing with her hand on the knob. "Take your time. I need to check on Leo anyway."
