Page 36 of A Temporary Forever

It’s like Leon wanted to punish us for the rebellion.

And my understudy has been eager to take over, making everything more awkward.

To say that the atmosphere in the group has changed is an understatement. Perhaps some of my colleagues realized how much they put in jeopardy to save me.

And most of them probably regretted it. I hope to God Dominic Cressard can file all the paperwork and get me my work permit soon.

The screeching startles me again. The weird thing is, it’s coming from my apartment. Did someonechange my ringtone yesterday? Is one of the backup dancers pranking me?

My phone lies on my bed, its screen black. I look around, feeling like an idiot. Is it the front door?

I pick up the intercom receiver for the first time since I moved in. It’s never worked. I guess the entrance truly is fixed.

“Hello?”

“Delivery.”

“I didn’t order anything.”

“Are you Celeste Delacroix?”

This makes no sense.

“Yes.” I don’t move.

Should I let a stranger into the building? Ironically, I considered this building perfectly safe until anunknownbenefactor improved its security.

Don’t be ridiculous, Celeste.I chuckle at myself. “Come on in.”

A minute later, I’m signing for a large white box. “Are you sure this is for me?” I glance at the bed where I put the package.

The delivery guy looks at me, his face impassive. “Have a nice day.”

Closing the door, I stay rooted to the spot. Not that I’m expecting someone has sent me a bomb. Those don’t arrive in soft boxes lined with silk on the outside.

Approaching my bed, Itrace my fingers on the glossy, cushy exterior. The lid is attached with ribbons on each side—not heavy-duty tape, freaking velvet ribbons.

I don’t know who sent me the gift, but what I know is I’ve never in my life gotten something this expensive. Because the packaging itself is the epitome of luxury.

My hands shake with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety as I lift the lid and the softest golden tissue paper from out of the box.

I gasp.

And now I’m really hoping this is not a mistake, because I’m in love with the exquisite cream-colored dress inside it before I even pick it up.

Because it looks wonderful still folded. When I finally lift the dress, I almost drop it, fearing I’ll soil the delicate silk, cold and smooth under my touch.

All my clothes are elegant and of high quality, mostly acquired in thrift stores after hours of searching. This dress is next-level.

I hold it against my body and turn to the mirror on my door. It’s a true design masterpiece and, as shallow as it may seem, it makes my heart flutter.

The deep V neckline adds a touch of daring allure, beautifully complementing the modest long sleeves that end in a chic, slight puff at the wrists.

The skirt, oh, the skirt! It flares out in a perfect A-line that cascades in soft, smooth folds. It’s one of thosepieces that makes a woman feel powerful and feminine.

The number on the label says sixteen. It’s my size. Only then, I remember to check for a card in the box.

We need wedding pictures.

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