Davina's POV
I didn't want to go. I had made that crystal clear the moment Irvin brought up the boutique.
"No, Irvin. I'm fine. I have dresses. Plenty of them," I lied, attempting to resist. The truth was, I didn't have anything decent.
Irvin, naturally, ignored me completely.
He wasn't even pretending to listen.
He simply took my hand with that familiar gentleness and guided me toward the upscale glass-fronted boutique—the same one I'd only ever passed by, pressing my face to the window, never brave enough to actually enter.
And now, here I was. Standing inside.
The moment those glass doors clicked shut behind me, I felt completely out of place.
The scent hit me first—expensive and intoxicating, like blooming roses mixed with creamy vanilla. Soft lighting bathed endless rows of sophisticated gowns, cocktail dresses, and designer heels that looked like they belonged to people who didn't worry about rent money.
