••• Victoria’s POV •••
The garment bag was already waiting when I entered my room.
Black. Silent. Obvious.
I didn’t even need to open it to know who it came from.
I knew there was a banquet tonight and we were invited, but as we were in a cold war, we hadn't talked about me coming with him.
That was why I hadn’t asked for it - the gown.
I stared at it like it might bite. Then again, everything from Damien did lately.
But I did anyway.
Still, I unzipped it.
The gown inside shimmered under the light—deep wine red, soft silk, backless, with a slit that ran high enough to make conservative wolves whisper. It was the kind of dress that made you look like a weapon. A queen. A threat.
It was perfect, which made me want to set it on fire.
I didn’t touch it.
Ju
