"Home already? The banquet food was not to your taste. You hardly touched a thing. I asked the restaurant to pack your favorite desserts. Come down and get them," Silas said gently.
"Wait for me, two seconds," I said, then hung up. I grabbed the bag from him.
I sprang off the couch, shoved my feet into slippers, and dashed downstairs.
Beneath the massive camphor tree, a sleek Bentley idled, low-key but oozing opulence.
Silas leaned against the car door with his phone in one hand and an elegant paper bag in the other. He looked up at me, and a hint of a smile curled his lips.
I returned to the living room, where he carefully unpacked the contents on the coffee table. My heart skipped a beat at the logo on the box. It was that exclusive private dining club I loved but could rarely affor
