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22: Rissa.

"I'm going to package these for you. Would you like them sent to your hotel?" Della asks.

"Yes, please. I'm going to wear this one out." I answer as I run my fingers down the pink silky fabric. The dress is tight at the top and ties around my neck with a little bow in the back. The bottom flares out and comes to mid-thigh. Preston is going to love it. I lean down and slip my shoes back on my feet, but when I stand up my heart stops.

"Rissa," Tomas says, and my body is frozen in place.

"What are you doing here?" I whisper as he steps into the dressing room.

I look at my fake father in a wrinkled suit with his hair out of place. I've never seen him so disheveled in all my life, and it's unnerving.

"Sweetheart, I didn't know Helen was trying to push those boys on you. I would never have allowed that." His fists are clenched at his sides. "She's lucky I didn't snap her fucking neck."

"As nice as that is to hear, what does it really matter at this point?" What the hell? How is that the fir
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