POV: Kim
The gown was not a dress.
It was a piece of architectural engineering designed to turn me into an artifact. Midnight-blue silk that felt like liquid cold against my skin, weighted with intricate gold thread that traced the lines of my ribs and the swell of my hips. It was heavy. It was expensive. It was completely, utterly unnecessary for a courier who was supposed to be in a holding cell.
I stood by the edge of the massive bed, clutching the fabric, while the servants hovered near the door like frightened birds.
"Out," Frank said.
He didn't yell. He didn't have to. The servants evaporated, the heavy oak door clicking shut behind them before the echo had even died.
I was alone with them.
The room suddenly felt very small. Frank stood by the vanity, his presence shifting th
