The flash of cameras was blinding.

Ava stood frozen at the top of the marble steps outside the grand hotel, her hand resting stiffly on Ethan’s arm. She hadn’t wanted to come, but Ethan’s presence at her door earlier that evening had erased any chance of refusal. He’d been dressed in a black tuxedo, sharp as sin, holding out a gown like it was a gift instead of a leash.

“Put it on,” he’d said. “Or I’ll have it put on you.”

She’d worn it. Not because he threatened her, but ...