Izan entered his room the next moment and shut his door, trying to get a few minutes of sleep in before they went for the game.
Less than an hour later, there was another knock at his door.
Izan opened it to find two men in sleek black suits standing outside. They weren't hotel staff. They were stylists.
"Izan Hernandez ?" one of them asked like he didn't know who he was.
Izan simply nodded.
"Henry Duvant sent us. We have a selection of outfits for you."
Saint Laurent. Of course. Miranda must have called Henry directly.
The stylists entered his room, carrying garment bags that they carefully laid out on the bed.
One by one, they unzipped them, revealing a lineup of designer fits—everything from streetwear-inspired looks to classic tailored suits, all dripping with luxury.
The older of the two stylists, a man with a sharp eye for detail, inspected Izan's frame before nodding to himself.
