The black dress was a bad idea. Perfect for Damon's party. Terrible for getting there on time.

I knew it the moment I slipped it on. It stopped just a few inches below my bum, and still had small slits on both sides. Short enough to be dangerous, tight enough to leave nothing to imagination. The neckline plunged precisely where the silk began to shimmer against my skin.

Damon had said 'dress to kill' after all. I hadn't even left, and I was killing people already-Mr. Hayes to be precise.

He ...