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"Colette's studio worked through the night on it." He extended the bag toward me, his fingertips inadvertently brushing the back of my hand in the exchange. That small patch of skin immediately tingled. "We leave for the Grand Palais in an hour and a half. The makeup artist I booked should be on the way, but if you prefer doing it yourself, I suggest you start now."

I instinctively stepped back, creating distance, then processed his words.

An hour and a half? I exhaled hard in relief, then felt embarrassed. God, I'd slept until now—he must think I'm a rookie with no time management skills.

"Thank you. I can handle my own hair and makeup." I tried to make my voice sound steady. "About an hour should do it."

Marcelo raised an eyebrow but didn't push. "One hour then. I'll see you in the living room. Don't make me wait too long, Ms. Caldwell."

"Yes, Mr. Moretti."

I quickly closed the door, shutting that tall figure from view.

When his footsteps faded, I leaned against the door, breathing deeply.

God, this was definitely not a good start.

Looks like I needed to set multiple alarms from now on.

I pulled myself together.

The moment I unzipped the garment bag, I gasped.

It was a deep emerald green velvet gown. Colette wasn't just a genius—she was insane. She'd completely abandoned the traditional evening gown obsession with slimming through rigid boning, instead using an incredibly bold bias-cut technique. The wide scoop neck perfectly displayed the elegant collarbone line, the bodice and waist gathered with intricate hidden pleats, the hem flowing like liquid dark jade.

I flew into the bathroom, washing my face and applying foundation as fast as possible. Years working with fabric and lines had taught me the art of light and shadow. I didn't try to contour myself into some hollowed-out mannequin. Instead, I deepened my amber eyes with earth tones, drew a sharp, clean wing at the outer corners, and finished with a rich vintage red-brown on my lips.

When I slipped on that emerald velvet gown and pulled up the hidden back zipper, I stood frozen before the full-length mirror.

The woman in the mirror had defined curves, her waist cinched perfectly beneath the velvet and pleating. What used to make me self-conscious—my full hips—now created a powerful feminine silhouette under the dress's drape. The wild rose tattoo on my right collarbone sat just at the velvet neckline's edge, like an elegant signature.

I took a deep breath and slipped on the black suede pointed-toe heels Colette had sent along.

You can do this, Ruby. I told my reflection. Tonight, you're going to prove to everyone that you belong on that stage.

When I pushed open the bedroom door and entered the living room, Marcelo stood with his back to me at the floor-to-ceiling window. He'd changed into a perfectly tailored charcoal suit, his silver-gray hair impeccably groomed, radiating a kind of lethally elegant presence. He seemed to be fixing his tie, long fingers moving deftly through the silk.

"Mr. Moretti?" I called softly.

His movements froze instantly. Then he slowly turned around. In that moment, I swear I saw shock flash through his eyes. His gray-green gaze traveled from my face to my neck, collarbones, then the curves wrapped in velvet, finally stopping on my fingers, curled nervously.

The air froze. He just stared at me, motionless, as if even his breathing had stopped.

His blatant, undisguised scrutiny made me uncomfortable all over. I instinctively started to cover my chest, then forced my arms down. Don't retreat, Ruby.

"What?" I tried to keep my voice steady. "Is something wrong?"

He didn't answer immediately. He just looked at me, some complex emotion I couldn't read churning in his eyes. Then he drew a deep breath, as if forcing himself to calm down.

"No." His voice was lower than usual, rough-textured. "Nothing's wrong."

He walked toward me.

With each step closer, that overwhelming scent of cedar and fig intensified. He stopped half a step away, his tall shadow completely engulfing me.

"Mr. Moretti..." I instinctively started to shrink back.

"Don't move."