Kate's POV
By the time the Voss brothers' stylist sat me down in front of the mirror for the second time, I no longer flinched at the woman staring back.
If anything, she was starting to feel familiar.
People adapt. That's what we do.
My hair was already pinned up, my makeup set. The stylist tipped my chin with two careful fingers and slid the second earring into place. Champagne pearl. Real. Forty minutes earlier, Damon had handed her the pair without a single word.
"There," she said. "Don't move for five minutes. Let the lipstick set."
She did one last sweep, smoothing a fold here, brushing lint there. Then the door clicked shut and left me alone with the woman in the glass.
Bare shoulders. Ivory silk slipping off one collarbone like it had nothing to prove. A line of pearl studs
