Sienna
I sat frozen, my fork hovering uselessly over my half-eaten plate as I stared dumbfounded at the double doors Marcello had just stormed through.
I let out a ragged breath I hadn't realized I was holding, my shoulders slumping as the rigid posture I had forced myself into collapsed.
What a joke.
I looked down at the dress, suddenly feeling ridiculous. I had actually listened to Roxy. I had sat at the vanity, letting her convince me that putting on makeup and dressing up would give me some kind of upper hand.
And for what? The man hadn't even blinked. He hadn't acknowledged the effort, he hadn't lingered on the dress, and he certainly hadn't given me the satisfaction of seeing him stumble.
Instead, he had sat there looking like a striking, unbothered god in a bold red dress
