The dress that arrived in a long, white garment bag was not a dress. It was a weapon.
Elena stood in her bedroom, staring at it with a mixture of awe and dread. It was made of a fabric so red it looked like spilled wine, clinging to the body in a way that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. The back was completely open, plunging down to the base of her spine, and the slit up the thigh was high enough to be illegal in several states.
There was a note attached to the bag: Wear this. No bra. The panties are in the box. And Elena? Fix your hair. I want it down.
Elena opened the small box. Inside lay a scrap of black lace that barely qualified as underwear. She picked it up with two fingers, her hands shaking. This was lingerie, not undergarments for a public event.
She had no choic
