By six fifteen, I had changed my outfit four times.
It was ridiculous.
This was not a date. It was dinner with a potential business partner who happened to be an arrogant billionaire with an irritating smile.
At least, that was what I kept telling myself.
I stood in front of the mirror and smoothed my hands over my black dress.
“You look beautiful.”
I turned.
My mother stood in the doorway.
For a moment, everything from the night before came rushing back.
He needs me to stay dead.
I still had a thousand questions, but Isabella had refused to answer them until she had proof.
“Thank you.”
“Are you going somewhere?”
“Dinner.”
Her eyebrows rose.
“With someone from work?”
“Sebastian Blackwood.”
The change in her expression was immediate.
Her face went pale.
“What?”
“Did you
