Wrecked By My Bully
"I'm just paid to deliver it."
I close the door, setting the box on my kitchen table. The box is heavy, sleek, and shining. When I gently pull the lid off, I gasp at what's inside—two dozen dark red roses, so dark that they could almost be black in the right light, with a cream ribbon wrapped around them. Tucked inside the ribbon is a matching envelope, sealed with a wax stamp the same dark red as the roses in the shape of a dragon's head. The entire setup must have been obscenely expensive, and I've never received anything like it.
Bab Populer