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Chapter 21

After work, I crashed Yvaine’s shoot. She was wrapping up a final round of photos for some artsy indie boutique no one’s heard of but everyone pretends to love. When she finally changed out of a chainmail minidress and stilettos, we hit one of her regular haunts—this little boutique in West 7th called Spitfire. She’d sweet-talked the owner into holding a dress she claimed had my name stitched into the soul. One look at the dress and I stopped breathing. Crimson satin. Plunging neckline. A thigh-high slit that could probably cause traffic accidents. I gawked. ‘You’re kidding. I can’t wear that.’ ‘Why not?’ ‘Just… not my usual style.’ ‘That’s the point, honey. You’ve got one shot to stun a crowd and make a man spiral,’ Yvaine said, hands on her hips. ‘This is it. You’re not showing up as yourself tomorrow. You’re showing up as the woman every other woman wants to be, and every man regrets losing.’ ‘Bit dramatic,’ I muttered. ‘Bit iconic,’ she snapped. ‘Now shut up and try it on.’ Even th

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