The heavy click of the office door signaling Dante’s departure finally broke the spell. Sofiya stayed frozen in the chair for a full minute, her chest heaving as she tried to calm her racing pulse. Her legs were still trembling, and the phantom heat of his touch lingered beneath her skin.

Forcing herself to move, she stood up on unsteady feet. She quickly retrieved her torn lace from the floor and stuffed it deep into the bottom of her handbag. With hurried, shaking hands, she smoothed down the fabric of her black mini-skirt, straightened her blouse, and checked her reflection in the small glass cabinet. Her lips were swollen, and her cheeks were flushed a deep pink. She took several slow, deep breaths, pressing her cold palms to her face to chase away the heat before opening the door and stepping back into the showroom.