MY EYES NARROWED. “WHAT ARE you wearing?” Gianna looked down at her modest gray cocktail dress and short white heels while unsuccessfully trying to fix a tendril of hair that had escaped her French bun. Then, she looked me in the eye and said, “Isn’t it obvious? I’m trying to mold myself into a woman you could love.” I didn’t know why the sarcasm in her voice annoyed the hell out of me. “No.” She raised a brow. “No?” “That’s what I said, Gianna. Go put on something else.”
