The walk-in closet in the penthouse was a sprawling, marble-floored cavern, and though I had spent weeks navigating its glass-encased shelves, tonight it felt entirely foreign. The sheer abundance of designer velvet, wool, and diamonds felt less like a luxury and more like a row of uniforms for a war I hadn’t fully prepared to fight.
I stood in the center of the room, clad only in a lace slip, my ginger hair already pinned up into a sleek, sophisticated twist that left the long line of my neck completely bare. My green eyes scanned the racks, completely paralyzed. Saturday night. Dinner at the Ray estate. Facing Eleanor Ray.
A soft rustle of fabric cut through my panic. I turned to see Alexander leaning against the dark mahogany archway of the closet. He looked utterly devastating, dr
