CHRISTOF
Her face was familiar in structure, but the details had been enhanced. Her eyes, her sharp, observant eyes I’d seen a couple of times, looked deeper somehow, framed and emphasized rather than softened. Her mouth held no smile, or apology, no challenge either. It remained neutral. It suited her disturbingly well.
The dress did the rest.
Silk, the color of skin but unmistakably regal. It didn’t cling or constrain, it flowed, responding to her movements like it had been designed to follow rather than shape. The cut revealed her neck, her shoulders, the line where collarbone met throat. With every step, the fabric shifted, catching and releasing light, tracing the logic of her body without ever announcing itself.
I had no idea what my expression was doing. Whatever discipline I u
