The Price of Recklessness

DOMINIC

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Vivienne walked toward me like she owned the goddamn boutique.

Like she owned the room.

Like she owned me.

All red lips. Designer heels. That practiced smile she'd spent years perfecting.

But my mind wasn't on her.

It was still behind that fitting-room curtain.

Madeline.

The black dress.

The way she'd looked at me.