BRIANNA

After trying on what felt like a thousand dresses (okay, it was only about fifteen), I finally emerged from the dressing room with a scowl plastered on my face. Mr. Adrian had rejected them all—too revealing, too concealing, too short, too long—nothing was right. My body was starting to feel like it had been through some bizarre workout, with me constantly slipping in and out of dresses to no avail.

The dress I had on now was a red velvet fishtail gown with thin straps. The bodice ...