Valentina stood in front of the mirror, dragging a brush through her damp hair in slow, steady strokes. Her robe clung softly to her shoulders, sleeves slipping down one arm as condensation fogged the glass from her earlier shower. The coughed, the sound echoing slightly in the silence.

She looked around, and chuckled when her eyes settled on the frame of her in a shimmering silver dress from one of the shoot. Lucas had insisted he made a frame for it, and he hung it just above his bed, or ...