Arianna’s POV
By the time I stepped out of the bathroom, a towel still wrapped in my hair, my small room had turned into a luxury boutique
Camille was kneeling beside my suitcase, ruthlessly tossing clothes onto the bed , most of which did not belong to me.
“Camille!” I gasped. “What are you doing?”
She held up a black satin dress with a slit that could cause heart palpitations. “Packing. Obviously.”
My eyes widened. “I can’t wear that!”
“You’re going to Paris,” she said, rolling her eyes like I was being unreasonable. “Not a church retreat. You need options — seductive, elegant, flirty, and just in case.”
“In case of what?” I demanded.
She paused dramatically, then whispered, “In case your ice-king boss melts and finally kisses you senseless.”
I threw a pillow at her. “Camille!
