Anya wolf whistles. “The trumpet silhouette is perfect for you.”
The gown is fitted through the middle and down her thighs, but flares out in a whirlwind of ruffles and lace at her knees. It balances her out nicely. She looks gorgeous.
“You really do look amazing,” I agree. “Bookmark that dress for when you finally marry your sugar daddy.”
“A sugar daddy?” Anya raises both brows. “Tell me more.”
Jorden shakes her head. “There’s nothing more to tell. Every man I meet is flirtatiously incompetent.”
“What does that even mean?” Francia pinches the tulle skirt of her dress between her fingers and drops it. No plans to say yes to that dress, apparently.
“It means they don’t know how to woo me,” she sighs.
Anya nods. “A girl needs to be wooed. It’s important.”
Is that what Ivan was doing
