Naya's POVThe brown office table vibrates with a call on my phone.When I look at the phone and see that it is Rowan, a smile crosses my lips. My shipments have arrived.“Um… Mrs Yorke,” he utters in a polished baritone, “I don't want to believe it, but a delivery truck is standing right before my abode looking for a certain Mrs Naya Sinclair.”“It's mine,” I respond, my lips drawing into a smile. “Sorry I didn't inform you beforehand.”“No, no, no… It's fine,” he says. “I just wanted to be sure that it's my wife's and not someone else’s.”“Really? That's so sweet of you, Rowan,” I coo.“Sure.”“Uhm… Try to come over as soon as possible” he adds.“I will,” I promise. “I'll be there in an hour.”“Alright. See you then.”I round up the leave permit and email it to the boss. She didn't come to the office today, but I'm sure she'll get the email any time soon.I board a taxi to Rowan's place, but first, we stopped at my apartment and I packed a few corporate dresses. Om the way to Rowan'
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