Mara POV
The emerald gown fits like a second skin.
I study myself in the full-length mirror—silk cascading to the floor, neckline dipping just low enough to be elegant instead of provocative, my hair swept up to expose my neck. I look like I belong in Lucien's world.
The illusion is perfect.
Mrs. Dahlia appears in the doorway. "Mr. Cross is waiting in the foyer."
My stomach twists. I haven't seen him since yesterday's office confrontation. Since his note ordering me to be perfect.
I descend the curved staircase slowly, one hand trailing the banister for balance in heels that could double as weapons.
Lucien stands at the bottom in a black tuxedo that costs an obscene amount. His hair is styled perfectly. His expression is carefully neutral.
But when he sees me, something flickers ac
