“Hold still. This dress isn’t going to fit itself.”
Ivy stood on a small platform in what used to be a sitting room, arms held out while a seamstress circled her with a mouth full of pins. The wedding gown felt more like armor than anything meant for a bride. Layers of white silk pooled around her feet, cinched tight at the waist. Heavier than anything she had ever worn. Heavier than it had any right to be for something that would only exist for a single day.
She had not picked the dress. She had not picked anything about the last three days.
“I don’t remember agreeing to this fabric,” Ivy said.
“You didn’t.” The seamstress did not look up. “Mr. Cross’s office approved the design. I just execute what’s given to me.”
“Of course he did.”
The door opened without a knock. Kade stepped in
