A suggestive hickey rested on the delicate ridge of her shoulder blade.
Early that morning, in the bathroom.
Mia Grant twisted her body sideways, contorting her torso as she tried desperately to see the mark on her back.
After just one night, the mark seemed to have darkened, imprinted firmly on her skin.
She ran a hand through her hair in frustration. The more she thought about it, the angrier she got.
If the timing wasn't so bad, she really would have stormed next door, grabbed a certain someone, and given him a sound thrashing.
'He knew perfectly well my gown was backless, yet he still had to leave a mark in such a conspicuous spot!'
It was too late to change her gown.
Mia Grant let her hair down, checking her reflection from every angle. Thankfully, it was long enough to just barely conceal the mark.
What a shame about the hairstyle she'd planned, though. She was going to wear her hair in an updo to look like a gentle, elegant socialite.
