Katelyn’s POV

The cold wind tugged at my sleeves as I stood silently beside the dented Rolls-Royce. Jack, the driver, crouched near the hood with grease on his cheek and dirt streaking his already wrinkled suit pants. He had insisted on checking the engine after the door mishap, muttering something about a loose joint and swearing it had never happened before.

When he finally stood, wiping his hands with a cloth, he pulled out a slightly crushed gift box from the backseat. The bow had been ...