Emma POV

The room smelled of perfume and rain.

A thin line of light from the window cut across the floor, touching my feet. The dress lay on the bed — black, simple, folded too neatly. His secretary had dropped it off hours ago, her knock soft, polite, a little hesitant. She’d smiled and left.

It fit before I even tried it on. That thought twisted my stomach in a way I didn’t like.

I stood in front of the mirror, holding the fabric against me. My fingers trembled. Too smooth, too cold. ...