Diara clicked the lock shut on her bedroom door, taking a deep breath as she finally found herself alone. She looked down at the box on the bed, feeling an intense wave of disgust, as if the object itself bore the weight of Kellan's arrogance.
Still, she forced herself to lift the lid and peer inside, her fingers grazing the fabric of the dark red gown that lay neatly folded. She held it up to the light, taking in the luxurious sheen, the delicate stitching, the way the material fell in graceful folds.
It was undeniably beautiful, a dress that must have cost a fortune.
She found a matching purse and a pair of heels, their sleek, polished surfaces gleaming up at her. Diara's brow furrowed. How did he know her size? Kellan had never concerned himself with the details of her life.
