The invitation arrived three days later.
A private investors’ reception. Black tie. Rooftop venue. Forty seventh floor of a building that looked like it touched the sky.
When Adrian handed me the envelope in his office, I felt my stomach tighten.
“You’ll come with me,” he said.
It was not phrased as a demand.
It was expectation.
“I don’t think I’m ready for that,” I admitted.
“You’re not,” he replied calmly.
That irritated me.
“Then why bring me?”
“Because readiness is built in rooms like that.”
I stared at the invitation again.
“I don’t even own a gown.”
“I’ve arranged one.”
Of course he had.
The dress arrived that afternoon. Deep midnight blue. Structured but fluid. Elegant without trying too hard.
Too elegant.
I stood in the apartment bedroom staring at myself in it for
