Without any more words, he took my hand and started guiding me out of the balcony, down the hall, like he had something urgent and secret to share. Of course he didn't explain anything. He never did. It was always this air of mystery, of control, of him.
He led me to his study. The door shut with a soft click behind us.
That room always felt different. Like him—rich, dark, precise. The scent of cologne, leather, and something sharp lingered in the air. He motioned to the leather couch.
There was a box sitting on it. White. With a satin black ribbon tied neatly across the top.
I turned to him, raising a brow.
"Open it," he said simply, watching me with that unreadable stare that made my skin tighten.
I sat down and pulled the ribbon free, lifted the lid—and stopped breathing for a full five seconds.
Inside was a dress.
Not just a dress. The dress he was talking about.
