ANDREA'S POV
I had barely taken two steps before I realized that something was wrong. Cool air brushed the back of my legs, raising goosebumps on my skin. I turned slightly to see four claw-shaped gashes in the train of my dress—or what was left of it, anyway.
Natasha walked towards the guards so fast that she almost tripped on her six-inch stilettos.
“Hi…um, George,” she said, pinching his name tag between two fingers. “Doesn't this event have a very strict dress code?”
“Yes, ma'am,” he replied, nodding stiffly.
“Good. Look at that woman.” She pointed at me. “What is that horridly ripped dress? She’s dressed like a tramp at a high-class event. You would offend the guests if you let her in looking like that.”
A few people turned to look, hushed whispers carrying over th
