Sloane’s POV
"Turn around," Roman said.
His voice was a low, smooth rasp that pulled me out of my own head. I stood in the middle of the small apartment, the cold air hitting my bare back. I did as he asked, pivoting slowly on the worn carpet. The silk of the dress felt like cool water against my skin, a sharp change from the oversized t-shirt I’d been wearing for the last two days.
Roman was leaning against the bathroom doorframe, his arms folded over his chest. He’d already changed. He wore a black suit that looked like it cost more than the building we were currently hiding in. The white shirt was crisp, the top button open, and his dark hair was pushed back, still slightly damp from the shower. He looked like a man who owned the city, not a man who had spent the last decade living i
