124
Yalda was curled up on the sun-drenched couch in the reading nook, a half-read novel resting on her stomach, when Ioannis appeared in the doorway.
The golden light from the window cast soft shadows over his sharp features, making him look like he’d just stepped out of a magazine. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows, his watch catching the light as he crossed his arms and leaned against the frame, watching her with that quiet intensity she was starting to know too well.
He didn’t speak immediately, and when she looked up from her book, he was already smiling.
“What?” she asked, suspicious of the glint in his eyes.
“There’s something I want to ask you,” he said.
“Ask away.”
He walked toward her and gently took the book from her hands, setting it aside. Then he sat on the edge of the couch, one hand brushing back a lock of hair from her cheek.
“There’s a ball in Monte Carlo. A grand one. It’s part of a larger event; something between a business summit and an elite social gathering. It’s not just a night, though. It spans the entire week. Dinners, charity galas, closed-door meetings, more parties...”
She blinked. “Sounds… exhausting.”
“It will be,” he admitted with a laugh, “but also beautiful."
Yalda sat up slightly. “And you want me to go with you.”
She knew this was what this was about. He nodded.
“I’d like you by my side,” he confirmed, voice low and sincere. “But if you'd rather stay here and rest, I understand.”
He knew she'd once been exposed to all that, and he knew she was exhausted now, he knew she just wanted peace and quiet, and he didn't want to inconvenience her in any way.
Yalda glanced toward the sunlit window, the garden beyond it quiet and peaceful. She had just started to enjoy the quiet rhythm of their days in the villa. Long walks with Loki, lazy mornings in bed, evenings spent with Ioannis reading or sipping wine beside the fire. It was simple and calming, exactly what she needed.
She blew out a breath. Being with a powerful business man meant she never truly could leave all the luxurious balls behind her.
“Will it be very formal?” she asked.
Ioannis smirked. “There’ll be more gowns than people, if that tells you anything.”
She exhaled slowly. “Alright. I’ll come.”
He tilted his head, surprised. “Just like that?”
Yalda gave him a look. “Don’t make me change my mind.”
He laughed and leaned forward, kissing her temple. “Then you’ll need something to wear. Or ten somethings.”
~~
Monte Carlo was still two days away when they flew to Milan for what Ioannis described as "serious wardrobe hunting."
She stood in the center of the dressing area as stylists brought out armfuls of gowns; sleek silks, embroidered tulle, beaded creations that shimmered like starlight. She let them fuss over her, but her eyes kept drifting toward Ioannis who watched her unblinkingly.
Stylists fluttered around her like elegant butterflies, pulling colors and fabrics and whispering suggestions in rapid Italian. Ioannis had made himself comfortable on a velvet couch, a tumbler of something amber in his hand, legs crossed like a king surveying his kingdom.
But his eyes didn't leave her still.
Yalda emerged from the dressing room in the first gown: a deep emerald green silk that hugged her hips and fell in soft waves to the floor. She looked at herself in the mirror, her reflection looked every bit of the competent Yalda Harris.
Ioannis's gaze was slow, hot, and unapologetically male. A smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth, but his dark and hungry eyes aid everything.
“Too much?” she asked.
He shook his head slowly. “Not enough.”
The next gown was a backless midnight blue creation, beaded along the sides like stardust, clinging to her curves in all the right places. She turned under the lights, the dress catching every flicker like moonlight on water.
Ioannis had stopped sipping his drink.
She stepped toward him, lifting the hem to avoid stepping on it. “What do you think?”
“I think I need to have you try that again,” he said, voice lower now, almost rough. “In private.”
Her cheeks flushed, but she turned and went back to the dressing room, heart fluttering. She tried on gown after gown; creamy satins, lace-detailed merlots, shimmering silvers, and every time she stepped out, Ioannis gave her the kind of look that made her feel like royalty. Not because of the dress, but because she was the one wearing it. The one he watched.
The stylists whispered to each other about her beauty. She didn’t understand all of it, but she caught enough to make her smile every time their eyes met.
In one moment between fittings, she caught Ioannis leaning forward, elbows on his knees, watching her adjust a strap in the mirror. His stare was nearly possessive, like he couldn’t decide whether to kiss her or worship her. She laughed softly and walked over, brushing a hand through his hair.
“You're not tired of this yet?”
“Of watching you?” He looked up, eyes molten. “Never.”
She sat beside him, still in a gown, her bare shoulder brushing his. His hand came up to trace her collarbone, slowly, reverently.
“You look like a dream in everything,” he murmured. “But this... this is torture.”
Yalda leaned her head on his shoulder, eyes closed for a moment. “I feel like a princess.”
“You are,” he said simply. “Mine.”
The words curled around her heart like velvet. She didn’t answer, but she let herself sink into the warmth of his body, the intoxicating scent of his cologne, the steady thrum of his pulse beneath her cheek.
They spent hours in the boutique, and by the end of the day, about a dozen gowns were selected, each wrapped in protective covers and carried off to be packed for Monte Carlo. Shoes, jewelry, and accessories followed, everything chosen with care, each piece complementing the next.
As the sun dipped lower in the sky, Ioannis guided her out of the boutique with one hand on her lower back.
“You spoil me,” she whispered as they stepped into the waiting car.
“I plan to do worse,” he replied, brushing his lips over her knuckles before pressing a kiss there.
She met his eyes, and something sparked deep in her chest. Excitement. Anticipation. She was looking forward to a spending a lifetime with him.
Monte Carlo awaited.
A/N
To Monte Carlo we go, to clear our mind and find our soul!
Keep the comments coming in, Mi amigos, I love reading them. Also, don't forget to add the book to your library. Xoxo!
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