“…I look divine,” I murmur, almost to myself.
Matteo claps once, delighted. “Yes, you do! Say it louder for the enemies in the back!”
A laugh escapes me before I can stop it, softer this time.
Real.
I run my hands lightly down the fabric, grounding myself in the moment.
For a second—just a second—I forget the blood, the betrayal, the gunshots.
But only for a second.
Because reality settles back in just as quickly.
For now, I’m just a beautiful girl in a beautiful dress.
“I like this one. I want it.”
Matteo frowns immediately. “Oh, no, that’s not how it works. You haven’t tried the rest.”
I groan, dragging my hands down my face. “But does it matter? I already like this one. No need to try more and get confused.”
“I’m here. You won’t get confused,” he says smoothly, already reaching for the next garment bag like my opinion means absolutely nothing.
I open my mouth to argue.
A gentle knock cuts me off.
“Come in.”
My breath hitches as I turn toward the door.
For some reason, I want it to be him.
I want Timofey to walk in and see me like this.
The thought alone sends heat crawling up my skin, settling low in my stomach before I can stop it.
But when the door opens, it’s not him.
Just a maid.
She steps in quietly, carrying a tray, her movements soft and careful. I’ve seen her around before—one of the few who actually smiles when she sees me. The others…they’re polite, respectful, but very distant.
Like I’m already something they’re not allowed to touch.
“If I dare say so myself, Miss Petrova, you look absolutely divine,” the maid says.
Matteo claps his hands in delight. “We said the same thing!”
I smile faintly, the compliment warming something small inside me.
“Thank you.”
She sets the tray down gently on the table, the faint scent of tea drifting into the room, calming, grounding.
“I brought you tea pending when breakfast will be ready. Enjoy, ma’am.”
