Aiden POV:
I buzzed Tobias without lifting my head from the stack of reports I wasn't really reading.
"Make sure she's ready. Presentable," I said, my voice a low, cold command. "Get her something appropriate to wear. Classy. Nothing cheap."
I drummed my fingers against the desk, each tap sharper than the last.
"And Tobias," I added before he could scurry off, "don't take her out of the house. Bring the goddamn stylist to her. Hair, makeup, the works. I don't care what it costs. She needs to look the part."
"Understood, sir," he said quickly.
Smart man. He didn't question the order, didn't ask why I was treating her like a porcelain doll to be repainted after I shattered her only hours before.
He was back within forty minutes with one of the black cars we used for events. I didn't look up when he informed me everything was done—that she was ready.
Just grabbed my jacket, straightened my cuffs, and walked past him without a word.
The drive home was silent.
