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The thought of him knowing where I am and coming after me now is too much to bear. What if he really was here… and I just froze?

But I’m still here. He wouldn’t have wasted any time getting to me. The freak probably would’ve installed cameras in my flat and known the second I got back home.

I shake my hands, my senses finally returning to me. I catch a hint of a masculine scent with the movement, and all of a sudden, my heart slows.

I take in the scent, breathing it in like it’s a lifeline. Like he’s right here next to me.

I pull my phone out.

Dickhead: Did you get my gifts angel?

Dickhead: Are you okay? I’m sorry about earlier. I don’t wanna drag you into this.

“Oh my fucking god,” I whimper, finally letting my tears fall.

Relief like I’ve never felt washes over me as tears stream down my face. I stare at my phone as if it just gave me the answer to life, laughing through my tears.

Wiping my face on his hoodie sleeves, I push myself off the floor and open the door. I silently pray that the box is still there.

And it is.

All white, emerald ribbon, and a dent from my shoe.

Picking it up, I cradle it in my arms and carry it to my sofa, flicking the main light on in the process.

Sid emerges from the bedroom, climbing up onto the kitchen island, watching me with his golden eyes.

Undoing the ribbon first, I place it on the table, then lift the lid off it. A bit of green peeks through luxury-looking white tissue paper, and a smaller box—which looks big enough for shoes—sits beside it.

My hands tremble as I pull out the soft tissue paper and carefully peel off the small, circular sticker, revealing shiny, silk material. I hold it up in front of me. It’s a short, shimmering, emerald green dress with spaghetti straps. It’s corseted at the waist, and it’s probably the most gorgeous dress I’ve ever seen.

Xander bought this?

I hang the dress over the back of the sofa and open the smaller box. It’s a pair of shiny, black heels with red bottoms.

“Holy fucking—” I mutter, taking in the expensive dress and heels.

Ding.

Dickhead: Angel?

I’ve unintentionally kept him hanging for long enough, so I don’t waste time texting him back.

Me: It’s gorgeous

Dickhead: Try it on

Me: Someone’s eager

Dickhead: To see you? Always

I’m not in the mood to flirt. My head hurts, and my body is still trembling from my anxiety attack earlier, but with Xander it feels easy.

I take the garments to my room, closing the blinds and flicking the lights on.

I reluctantly take off Xander’s clothes and neatly fold them on my bed, slipping the dress on, careful not to rip it or catch it on something.

It fits like a glove. It complements perfectly with my eyes, and it’s flattering for my figure.