HERMIONE
My hands pause over my keyboard at a knock on my office door. I raise my head, frowning, and demand to know who's there.
The door opens, and a delivery man steps in, carrying a large boxed package. "Hermione Watson Pierce?" he asks, approaching my desk.
"Yes," I respond curtly.
I'm not expecting any delivery, and my irritation grows. If this is another gift from the Mendes, I'll lose my temper.
It's been barely three days since our dinner on Sunday. The gifts Beatrice sent are still stored in the storage room, unwrapped and untouched.
I dislike receiving gifts, but rejecting them from potential in-laws seems impolite – a sentiment likely rooted in my upbringing.
"You have a delivery from Aiden Mendes," the delivery man says. "Where should I set it down?"
At the mentio
