NOVA
I stared at my reflection in the floor-length mirror of my bedroom and let out a slow, unsteady breath.
*Wear green.* It had been a directive, not a suggestion. Naturally, my first instinct had been to buy the most aggressive, stark white pantsuit I could find. But when I had walked into the boutique on Michigan Avenue on my lunch break, my eyes had locked onto a silk slip dress the exact shade of a deep, shadowed forest.
Now, wearing it, I realized exactly how much trouble I was in.
The dress was a masterpiece of minimalist architecture. It had no heavy beading, no dramatic cutouts, just liquid emerald silk that draped over my curves like water, falling to the floor in a sleek, uninterrupted line. The neckline was a soft cowl that hinted at my collarbones, and the back dipped low
