Elena’s POV

I was kneeling on the carpet in the lounge, frantically blotting at the stubborn red wine stains on my skirt with a damp towel. Each press only seemed to spread the deep crimson further. My fingers trembled slightly, not from panic but from irritation. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t let a little accident ruin the evening.

“Here,” Silvia’s voice interrupted my muttering. She dug into her designer bag and pulled out another set of clothes. “I just happened to bring an ...