I looked at myself in the mirror and moved side to side. The dress that Aleksandr had chosen clung to me like a second skin, every shimmer of its deep red sequins catching the light with an almost mocking brilliance. I sighed, feeling a pang of anxiety rise in my chest. The dress had a high slit that climbed daringly up my thigh, a deep V-neck that left little to the imagination, and thin straps that crisscrossed over my back. It was elegant, yes, but also bold—too bold for someone like me. My hair was styled in loose curls that framed my face, and my makeup was tastefully done: not too loud, not too muted. The goal was to look effortlessly perfect, and somehow, Aleksandr's people had made it so.