Ariana’s POV
The knock came just as I was finishing breakfast.
Christine looked up from her seat. “Who could that be this early?”
“I’ll check,” I said, setting my cup down.
When I opened the door, a dispatch rider stood there holding a square white box wrapped in a gold ribbon.
“Delivery for Miss Ariana Vale,” he said.
I frowned. “From who?”
He glanced at the tag. “Mr. Zack Quinn.”
My stomach dipped slightly. “Oh.”
I thanked him and closed the door. Christine was already walking toward me, drying her hands on a towel, curiosity lighting up her face.
“Zack Quinn sent you something?”
I held up the box. “Apparently.”
Her smile widened. “Well, open it before my imagination explodes.”
I gave her a look but undid the ribbon anyway. Inside was a folded silk evening dress — soft beige
