Tonight, I felt dangerously irresistible. Part of it was vanity—I couldn’t deny the thrill of knowing I looked flawless, sexy. The rest was the reckless anticipation simmering in me, the thought that Lucien might appear out of nowhere, storm into the club, and drag me into his arms. That possibility alone made me determined to look hotter than ever.
My skirt was scandalously short, the corset cinched so tightly around my waist I could hardly breathe—but who cared about breathing when you had to look hot? The boning lifted and shaped my breasts just right. My hair, messily air-dried, fell in soft spirals around my long face, brown glossy waves tumbling over my shoulders.
The mirror had been kind tonight. My makeup, subtle but sharpened with a smoky edge, gave me a dangerous allure. My bo
