Contracted to the Mafia: A Plus-Size Bride
I stood in front of the bedroom mirror, looking at my reflection. This maroon silk nightgown was almost transparent, falling softly above my thighs. I let my hair down, slightly wavy from the loose curls I deliberately made with the straightener. I touched my flushed cheeks, not from blush, but from nervousness.
Mira had given me a lesson through a video call earlier this afternoon. She was abroad, in her fancy hotel room, with a glass of wine in her hand and a mischievous smile on her face.