Page 229 of Terms of Exposure
A different kind than I'd spent my career chasing.
But no less real.
Makeup came next. Light foundation to even my skin. A sweep of blush over my cheekbones. Mascara that made my lashes look endless. And lipstick—a deep burgundy shade Damien once told me made him want to spend hours ruining it.
Then came the emerald green dress. A recent gift, it slid over my skin like water, hugging every curve like it was made for me—which, knowing Damien, it probably had been.
The neckline dipped low enough to show some cleavage without tipping into scandal. The hem fell just above my knees, showing legs I'd learned to stop criticizing.
I turned in front of the mirror, watching the fabric catch the light.
Not bad, Sinclair.
The thought came without its usual asterisk. Nobut your hips are too wideoryour stomach isn't flat enough.
Just…appreciation.
Simple and clean.
I was starting to see myself the way he saw me.
My fingers traced the delicate chain of my collar, pausing at the tiny black pendant nestled in the hollow of my throat.
His.
The woman in the mirror smiled again.
My phone buzzed at 6:45.
I grabbed my clutch—small, gold, just big enough for my phone and lipstick—and crossed the apartment, calling the elevator.
Harold waited at the curb, holding the door open with a wide smile. "Good evening, Ms. Sinclair."
"Good evening, Harold."
I slid inside, the leather seat cool against my bare legs.
"Marina's?" he confirmed, meeting my gaze in the rearview mirror.
I dipped my chin at him, returning his smile.
He pulled into traffic, and I settled back against the seat, watching the city blur past.
The radio played something soft and jazzy, barely audible beneath the hum of the engine.
The same streets I'd traveled months ago, when everything was different. Back when I'd been a bundle of nerves, palms sweating, heart racing, voices in my head screaming disaster.
I'd been so afraid.
Afraid he wouldn't show.
Afraid he would—and I'd disappoint him.
Afraid of wanting something so badly and watching it crumble the way everything good in my life eventually had.
That woman felt like a stranger.
I looked down at my hands, calm and steady in my lap.
