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Certainly, she must know.
No, we hadn’t talked about it, but she must be tossing around ideas in her head, suggestions she just hadn’t mentioned yet.
She sighed as she pushed her plate back. “I suppose it’s time for me to start thinking about the wedding. I’m looking forward to that, too, but this has been such a magical week.”
Magical.
There was that word again.
Had it been magical because we were together, or because she thought London was enchanting?
“They delivered your dress today for the Monday night pre-wedding gala,” I said casually.
She frowned. “What dress? I didn’t order anything.”
No, but I did.
I’d taken Kylie on the necessary tourist trip to Harrods, and while we’d been there, a beautiful evening gown had caught her eye.
Worried that the dress she’d brought wasn’t formal enough for Mum’s gala, she’d gotten her size and was ready to try it on…until she’d seen the price.
She’d hustled away from that Zuhair Murad gown like she couldn’t get away from it fast enough.
So, I’d had it delivered today.
“It’s in your master closet,” I informed her.
“Dylan Lancaster,” she said in a low, warning tone. “What did you order? God, please don’t say it’s that gown from Harrods.”
“All right, I won’t say that,” I replied obligingly. “But I won’t promise it’s not in your closet.”
“No,” she groaned. “Dylan, that gown was nearly as much as my car.”
“It’s a gift,” I told her.
“You’ve already given me this entire trip,” she argued. “Please send it back. I don’t buy dresses like that. I mean, it’s stunning, but you’ve done enough for me.”
“I’m not sending it back,” I told her stubbornly. “Kylie, what’s the point of me having money if I can’t spend it on you? The price for the things I bought you is nothing to me. Small things. Your boyfriend is, in fact, a billionaire with more money than God, and in the future, you’ll get more gifts that are even more expensive. This is who I am, love. Don’t ask me not to give you anything your heart desires because I just can’t do that.”
She crossed her arms over her chest.
I watched as she opened her mouth and then closed it.
And then did it again.
“What am I going to do with you, Dylan Lancaster?” she finally asked, sounding completely exasperated.
I lifted a brow. “Keep me?”
She rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t change a single thing about you, but the gift-giving thing is not going to be easy for me. I’ve never had a man give me flowers, much less a five-figure dress and an all-expenses-paid luxury vacay in London. Including expensive dinners I never could have afforded. Oh, and let’s not forget the private jet.”
“Do you like flowers?” I asked her, realizing I hadn’t bought her any yet.
“Of course,” she huffed. “I mean, in general, yes. But we aren’t talking about a bouquet of flowers here, Dylan.”
I could start the delivery tomorrow, a different type of flower bouquet every day.
If I did that, I could see what she really liked by her reactions.
