ROSETTE’S POV
I didn’t wear his dress.
The red gown still hung in my closet, untouched since I’d lifted it from the box. A silent rejection he’d understand the moment he saw me.
Instead, I chose black Versace. Sleek, dangerous, with a neckline that teased just enough of my cleavage while revealing nothing.
A dress that said try harder.
Luther met me in the lobby at seven, distinguished in charcoal Armani that softened the severity of his scarred face. He raised an eyebrow when he saw me.
“You look ready to draw blood.”
“I might.” I smoothed my hands down the fabric. “How do I look?”
“Like your mother before she dismantled rival corporations.” Something flickered in his weathered eyes. “She had that same smile. Right before the bodies hit the floor.”
I smiled wider.
Outside, the c
