PENELOPE
The dress was a last-minute decision. White. Simple, but not forgettable — a satin slip dress with a deep cowl neckline and a high slit that kissed the middle of my thigh with every step. I paired it with gold heels and swept my hair up into a messy bun, soft strands framing my face.
I stood in front of the mirror for a second, debating whether to add jewelry, but decided against it. Tonight, I didn’t want armor. I wanted to survive it bare.
Grabbing my clutch and the jar of cookies I packed earlier for Eve, I hurried downstairs.
And there he was, standing by the door, a white shirt tucked neatly into black pants, a matching dark jacket slung over his forearm. He looked… dangerous. And heartbreakingly good. My fingers tightened around the jar. I forced my gaze away.
Did he re
