The first delivery arrived just after noon.
I was still in Liam’s house robe, flipping through TV channels like a bored house cat, when the doorbell rang. The housekeeper handed me a sleek, matte black package with my name etched in silver cursive across the top.
Inside the box? A crimson dress–silk, scandalous, sculpted like a second skin. My breath hitched as I lifted it from the folds. It was unapologetically sensual, unmistakably expensive. Liam Black didn’t just pick a dress. He commissioned temptation itself.
Tucked inside was a single note:
“Dinner. 8 PM. Wear this.”
I shook my head, already smiling like a fool. I should’ve known he wasn’t done making statements.
Then came the second delivery.
This time, a bouquet of red roses so deep in color they looked almost black under t
