Once, a new maid had snuck it out to try on. The moment I found out, I had her dismissed and sent packing from the Capital entirely.
Domenico had praised me for it at the time. He said what was mine was mine, and no one else had the right to lay a finger on it.
Now he'd asked me, straight to my face, to give that gown to Olimpia.
My fingers curled inward, nails digging so deep into my palms they nearly drew blood.
I looked at Domenico's expression, so utterly matter-of-fact, and slowly nodded. "Fine. I'll have someone deliver it tomorrow."
Domenico held my gaze for a long moment, then pushed the door open and walked out.
From the hallway came the soft murmur of his voice, gentle and soothing, comforting Olimpia. Then the click of the neighboring room's door shutting behind them.
I turned and walked to the desk. Pulled open the drawer. Took out a desk calendar.
I picked up a red marker and drew a heavy X over today's date.
Two more days until Russo came for me.
I peeled off the wine-stained gown and stepped into the bathroom. Warm water streamed over my body. I stared at the pale face in the mirror.
Domenico Corrado, seven years ago you pulled me from that car wreck and gave me a second life.