"ALL OF THAT. If Mr. Ashford took the trouble to purchase a gown and arrange for someone to prepare you, he wanted it done properly."
That last sentence landed with its own little boom.
Grayson had asked for this. He'd bothered to think through the logistics.
The fact underscored everything already churning in Mailah's chest: he'd changed his mind, he'd made an effort, he'd thought of her.
She stepped aside, letting Etta pass into the room, and for a moment their eyes met — a professional appraising a client.
The dresser's gaze flicked to the box, then to Mailah's face as if cataloguing the small tensions in her posture.
"Shall I?" Etta asked simply.
Mailah nodded before she had time to analyze whether she'd allowed it too quickly. "Yes. Please."
Etta placed her canvas bag on the chair and unlatched the metallic kit with the practiced motion of someone who'd done it a thousand times.
