Hermia's POV
"Can I just get the dress now?" I asked, my patience wearing thin.
"After you, Mia," Niklaus said smoothly, gesturing toward the racks of gowns.
I exhaled sharply. "It's Hermia," I muttered under my breath, knowing full well he wouldn't listen. He never did.
He took pleasure in shortening my name, twisting it like he had some kind of claim over me.
I ignored the way my nerves frayed as I stepped forward, the soft fabric of my sundress brushing against my legs. The boutique was almost too grand, too polished—filled with dresses that looked like they belonged to a different world entirely. Not mine.
Still, I walked forward, trying not to let my discomfort show.
Niklaus followed. Always watching.
A shadow at my back.
I felt the weight of his stare, the way his presence seemed to bend the air around him. He was both a storm and a calm at once.
The moment Jared Lawrence, the boutique owner, stepped forward to greet me, his charm was already dialed up to ten.
