Back in the penthouse the setting sun painted the sky in shades of orange and bruised purple. Anissa stood in the cavernous walk-in closet, a glass of de ep red wine in her hand. The confrontation on Fifth Avenue had left a humming energy under her skin a mixture of triumph and ‘exhaustion Tonight was the Snow family's annual summer dinnerin the Hamptons-another battlefield , and she needed her armor.
Harding leaned against the doorframe, watching her. He had shed his jacket and tie, and the sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up revealing his powerful forearms. The question he'd asked in the car stil hung between them, unanswered and potent.
He chuckled, a low, dark sound of genuineamusement that seemed to acknowledge her lie without challenging it. "Well, he said. "You're a very fast learner "
He walked into the closet, the space suddenly feeling smaller, more. charged. He moved past her and took a gown from the rack. It was a crimson gown, the fabric like liquid fire. The one she had been contemplating, the one that felt like a declaration of war. The color of blood and retribution.
“Wear this one,” he said, his voice close to her ear, It's appropriate for tonight's battlefield .*
She took the dress from him the heavy, soft fabric cool against her fingers. He didn't see her as a victim to be protected. He saw her as a fellow warrior. The realization settled a profound sense of calm in her chest.
When she emerged from the dressingroom, she was transformed. The crimson fabric clung to her like a second skin and her skin seemed to glow against the dark fabric. She looked in the mirror and saw a queen, cold and untouchable
Harding approached from behind a familiar velvet box In his hand. He opened it, revealing a magnificent ruby necklace, its stones like frozen drops of blood. He fastened it around her neck himself, his fingers brushing against her skin sending a shiver down her spine The air between them grew thick heavy with unspokenthings.