They Rise at Dusk (Book #1) ✔️

Chapter 28: Passive Resistance

"What's this?" Jax's brows furrowed, and he squatted to lift the boxes. "Someone must have had it delivered to the wrong address."

God, I wished it was the wrong address.

I swallowed the nausea in my mouth while Jax examined the boxes, trying to figure out where they were supposed to go. I didn't dare touch the boxes, or open them. Once he figured there was no address, Jax stood up.

"I'll take them inside and ask the neighbours."

I stood still as a statue while he unlocked the door.

"I wonder if those are designer brands." Jax walked in and put the boxes on the table. "Maybe we can resell them if no one comes looking for them."

He didn't even know who Valentino was.

"You could probably pay rent with it." I murmured, still staring at the boxes.

"What?" Jax let out a small laugh. "That's ridiculous, I have to see it now."

My heart dropped to my gut. Jax opened the bigger box, the Valentino one, and just like I suspected, there was a piece of paper on top of the gold fabric. Jax took it between his fingers and read it. My heart beat steadily in my chest as I watched his face change from confusion to understanding. The furrow of his brow flattened, and his lips turned slightly downward. When he read the note, he looked at me.

"It's for you."

My shoulders slumped, "I figured."

Jax walked away from the boxes, and headed for the terrace. Before he exited, however, he faced me again.

"How does he know where I live?"

I shrugged, "He knows everything."

"Great." Jax murmured under his breath and walked out.

When he closed the door, I let out the breath I was holding, and slowly approached the boxes. I should have expected something like this from Dorian. When I said he was a conniving, manipulative bastard, this was what I had in mind. I took the note Jax threw back in the box – a smooth beige matte paper with cursive letters that read: You have until 10PM to change your mind. Signed: D.D.

My heart picked up the pace when I turned to the silk gold fabric peeking at me. It's been two years since I wore something beautiful, and it's been more since I wore an actual gown. I took out the dress, enjoying the smoothness underneath my fingers, and lifted it up in the air. It was a silk silhouetted gown, sleeveless, with tiny straps hanging on the shoulders and a loose squareneck. The stunning piece flowed from the more fitted, but not quite tight bodice into a sweeping hem. The luxurious silk had a natural sheen that emphasized the gold.

The dress was glamorously simple with its loose, flowing hem and tiny straps woven with gold threads. It was almost like he knew I wouldn't have time to do my hair and that my makeup would be simple, and he wanted the dress to compliment that instead of making it jarring.

As I stared at the dress, I realised pain had gathered in my throat and my heart beat relentlessly against my chest. How fucking dare he? Speaking to my lowest carnal impulses and the sheer inability to turn away from a gorgeous gown!

The Louboutins were nude, with their signature red soles. There was also a complementary nude Fendi purse, big enough to fit a phone and a lipstick, too small to fit a wallet.

Instead of staring at the gifts, I dropped them back in their boxes and marched to the bathroom, where I closed the door and leaned over the sink. My expression stared at me under the terrible neon light, which emphasized the dark circles and the glimmer of fear in my eyes.