“What’s wrong with the dress?” she asked. Dionysus could feel the heat rushing to his head, roaring in his ears. “Do you know how many men will look at you tonight?” “I imagine quite a few,” she said. “Including you.” He swallowed and looked away. “I did not intend to be disrespectful,” he said, his voice low and gruff, not because he did not wish to apologize but because he was embarrassed. “I can protect myself, Dionysus,” she said. Her comment drew his eyes once more, and he could not help letting his gaze drift down her body. “I am armed.” “In that dress?” “Yes, in this dress.” He raised a
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