Elena's POV
"You'll want the navy," Ruth said, holding the gown up against me with a critical eye. "The investors' dinner-dance draws a more conservative crowd than the gala. Understated works better."
I nodded absently, my mind still circling the texter's warning from two nights ago, the confession I'd nearly made to Damian sitting unspoken and heavy in my chest ever since. *Don't tell him yet.* I hadn't. The words had felt too much like sound advice to ignore, even coming from a source I still couldn't name, and the silence since had left the guilt sitting exactly where it had been for weeks, neither lighter nor heavier, just patiently waiting.
"You're distracted," Ruth observed, setting the gown carefully over a chair.
"Just tired."
"Mm." She didn't push, though her eyes lingered a
