Sienna’s mind raced, the gears turning with desperate, frantic speed. The air in Ronan Thorne’s office had grown suffocatingly thin. His grip on her shoulder was a vice of iron and heat, bruising her skin through the thin fabric of her borrowed clothes. His eyes—usually twin chips of impenetrable ic

The dress was a weapon in its own right.

It was a floor-length gown of midnight blue silk, cut dangerously low in the back and featuring a slit that rode high up her thigh. It clung to her curves like a second skin, elegant but predatory. As Sienna stared at her reflection in the cracked mirror of

The new dress was a masterpiece of deception.

Woven from midnight-blue silk that clung to Sienna’s curves like liquid shadow, it featured a high, elegant neckline and long sleeves that perfectly concealed the bandages wrapped around her lacerated arm. No one looking at her would ever suspect that