He loves me. He's not perfect. But he loves me. And love means accepting someone's flaws.
That's what I believed.
That's what I needed to keep believing, at least until this was over and I could go back to our apartment, our life, our normal.
But tonight, in this mirror, the man standing behind me was not Ronald.
Damian had settled onto the sofa at my back, flipping through documents, not once glancing up.
"Thank you for the dress," I said stiffly. "How did you know my size?"
His eyes lifted. Scanned me head to toe with exactly zero change in expression, as if the woman in the mirror who'd startled even herself was nothing particularly remarkable.
"Every employee's physical measurements are recorded during onboarding medical exams," he said. "Company file. Not hard to find."
"Voss
