Sophia’s POV
‘What could go wrong?’
“Everything, Sophia… or maybe you’re just being paranoid…” I murmur to myself as I follow the rose petals, all changed.
Yes, I changed into the outfit. I did. I’m probably not thinking.
I fidget with my French manicured nails, curving a corner that leads to the 70th floor. My steps are slow and hesitant.
The coolness of the penthouse caresses my exposed thighs. The socks get just below my knees, feet buried in pink furry slides. The tiny skirt floats around my hips, covering enough. But not enough to get my mind off the feel of the soft lace underneath, which keeps thinning into nothing as I go up the stairs.
My heart pounds in my ears like a warning.
I left my purse downstairs in the foyer because he texted: ‘No phones. No interruptions. Just y
