ROSETTE’S POV
That night, my red dress was a sin.
I stared at my reflection and tried to remember why I’d sworn I would never wear it. Zavien’s note still burned in my memory.
‘Roses are red, violets are blue, I know your size, and what I want to do. ‘
The lingerie had been crimson. The dress he’d sent before that dinner had been red too. This man had a fixation.
I’d told myself I’d burn it before giving him the satisfaction. Had shoved the box to the back of my closet and pretended it didn’t exist.
And yet here I stood, wrapped in crimson fabric that pooled around my feet, with a neckline that plunged just low enough to be dangerous and a slit that climbed my thigh with every step.
His dress. His color. His challenge.
I didn’t have an answer for why I’d put it on that wouldn’t dam
