Sofia

The dress lay on the bed like a pool of spilled blood.

It was a slip of silk, a deep, dark red that looked almost black in the dim light of the bedroom. I stared at it, my stomach churning with a mixture of nausea and nervous energy.

"Put it on," Luca had said. I reached for it, my fingers trembling slightly. When I slid the fabric over my head, I gasped. It was cold against my skin, shivering down my spine, it settled over my curves, and I turned to the full-length mirror.

I barely ...