Georgina

"You've got to be kidding me."

I sigh as I look into the sleek, white cardboard box. The fabric inside is midnight black, glowing faintly red when I turn it toward the light. "He bought me a dress?"

But even as I express my discontent, my mind is wandering, wondering, what would it feel like to let him take it off?

No. Way. In. Hell. I shake myself, but I don't have time to dawdle. I quickly change, tying up my hair and applying a scant amount of makeup. When I see my reflection, my breath hitches.

The girl in the mirror, she actually, impossibly, looks beautiful. The dress is stunning and tasteful, likely outrageously expensive. It falls above the knee, and the straps are thin as wires.

It makes me look younger than I've felt in years. Suddenly, all I can think about is what Richard will say when he sees me in it.

People have already started arriving, It's a (reasonably) small party, only fifty people, every last one of them flown discreetly to the island on private jets. Just about