Her birthday

CHAPTER 116

RYAN

Two weeks in Italy felt like stepping into another life—a perfect one. Our days were a whirlwind of everything Violet loved: quiet mornings spent exploring cobblestone streets, lazy afternoons watching the sun dip over the Arno, and nights filled with cozy movie marathons, decadent dinners, and boat tours that stretched into the starry hours. It was the kind of happiness I’d never thought I’d deserve, let alone experience.

I didn’t want it to end.

Whether our parents couldn’t find us or had given up trying, I didn’t care. As far as I was concerned, Italy was ours, a bubble untouched by the outside world, and I was going to make sure tonight was unforgettable.

“Since it’s my birthday,” Violet said, her voice laced with mock authority as I guided her through the marble entryway, “I could technically make you tell me where we’re going. I’ll call it my birthday gift. You wouldn’t deny me that, would you?”

“Nice try, Mouse,” I replied, amused by her persistence. “But if you waste your gift asking about the surprise, you won’t get the surprise itself. And trust me, you’ll want this one.”

“This is torture,” she grumbled, but her curiosity was palpable even through the silk blindfold I’d tied securely over her eyes before we left.

Her steps slowed slightly as the sound of elevator doors sliding open echoed around us. “Ooh, a lift,” she said. “So we’re probably not going to a restaurant unless it’s one of the fancy rooftop ones. Are we in a hotel? Museum? Harrods?”

I smirked, stifling a laugh. “None of the above. Stop guessing, Mouse. You’ll never figure it out.”

“Well, now I take that as a challenge.”

Of course she would. Her competitive streak was one of the many things I loved about her.

By the time we reached our destination, she was still throwing out guesses, none of them even remotely close. Not that I blamed her—it wasn’t a place most people could even dream of visiting, let alone recognize. If it weren’t for Jack pulling strings with his father, tonight wouldn’t have been possible.

“You can stop guessing now,” I said, placing a hand on the small of her back as we came to a halt in front of a set of arched double doors. My pulse quickened with a mixture of anticipation and nerves. “We’re here.”

Carefully, I untied the blindfold and slipped it into my pocket, stepping back to watch her reaction. For a moment, she blinked, her eyes adjusting to the soft golden light of the marble hall. She took in the intricate carvings on the walls, the priceless antique vases perched on pedestals, and the museum-quality paintings lining the corridor.

“Where are we?” she asked, her voice a breathless mix of awe and confusion.

Instead of answering, I gripped the gilded handles of the doors and pushed them open with deliberate slowness. The room beyond revealed itself like a grand secret, its breathtaking beauty illuminating Violet’s wide-eyed expression.

“Welcome to the Laurentian Club library,” I said, unable to keep the pride out of my voice.

Her gasp was audible as she stepped inside, her gaze sweeping over the towering wooden shelves that rose to the arched ceiling, each one filled with priceless manuscripts and first editions. The soft glow of brass lamps illuminated long desks carved with intricate designs, while the coffered ceiling above bore a fresco so detailed it could’ve been the Sistine Chapel’s rival.

“It’s… it’s incredible,” Violet murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. She wandered deeper into the room, trailing her fingers along the polished surface of a centuries-old table. Her awe was palpable, her reverence making every second of planning worth it.

“The Club is an ultra-exclusive society for the world’s wealthiest and most powerful,” I explained, following her. “Each chapter has its own library, but Florence’s is the crown jewel. Designed by Michelangelo himself, it’s unlike anything else in the world.”

She stopped, turning to face me with wide eyes. “How did you—”

“Jack’s father is a member,” I said with a shrug. “Jack pulled some strings to get me access. But the library isn’t the surprise. It’s who’s here.”

Her brow furrowed in confusion as I took her hand and led her toward one of the private alcoves.

“Who’s…” Her voice trailed off when she saw the figure waiting inside. She froze, her jaw dropping in stunned disbelief. “Ryan. You didn’t.”

Relief and amusement swept through me at her reaction. “You’ve always wanted to meet her,” I said, a grin tugging at my lips. “I figured tonight was the perfect time. Especially since she just released her new book.”

Inside the alcove, a striking woman with black hair rose from her seat behind a small table. A pile of books stacked neatly on its polished surface.

Violet’s gasp was sharper this time, her hands flying to her mouth as recognition dawned. Leah Flores, the elusive author whose works Violet adored, stood before her like a dream brought to life.

“Hi!” Leah’s smile dazzled, her presence warm and inviting. “You must be Violet. I’m Leah Flores. It’s so lovely to meet you!”

Violet made a strangled noise, clearly overwhelmed, as Leah stepped around the table and greeted her with a big hug.

“I was told it’s your birthday,” Leah said as she pulled back, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “Happy birthday, Violet!”

“Thank you so much,” Violet finally managed, her voice trembling with emotion. Tears shimmered in her eyes as she added, “I’m such a big fan. I absolutely loved your latest book!”

“Oh, thank you! That means the world to me,” Leah replied, her smile widening with genuine warmth. “I’m so glad to hear that.” She motioned toward the table behind her. “Now, let’s get to the signing, shall we?”

Violet blinked, momentarily stunned. She turned to me, her expression a mixture of confusion and awe. “Signing?”

I stepped in with a small, proud smile. “Leah hasn’t done an Italy tour yet, but I figured a personal meet-and-greet would be more fun than standing in line for hours. So…” I gestured toward the table, where a pristine collection of books was arranged neatly. “I had special editions of all her titles made just for you so she could sign them in person.”

Her mouth opened as if to speak, but no words came out. I could tell she had a million questions, the first of which was probably How did you manage this?

It hadn’t been easy, but it was worth every effort. Leah Flores was notoriously private, rarely attending events or doing signings, but with the right connections and a bit of determination, I’d made it happen. My father’s deep ties to the publishing world helped open the door, but it was a pitch I personally crafted that sealed the deal. I’d written to Leah herself, explaining how much Violet admired her work and how meeting her would make her birthday unforgettable. To my surprise, Leah responded with a warm yes, saying she couldn’t resist such a heartfelt request.

“Happy birthday once again, Violet,” Leah said, linking her arm through Violet’s and guiding her to the table. “Come on, let’s get these books signed. Which of my stories is your favorite so far?”

“Oh, I don’t even know where to start!” Violet gushed, her excitement bubbling over as they reached the table. “But I think The Billionaire's cure has to be at the top. The way you wrote about the character's love was so on point “

Leah beamed. “That one is close to my heart too. I’m so glad it resonated with you.”

While the two of them dove into an animated conversation, I stepped back, giving them space. Watching Violet like this—her face glowing with joy, her voice animated as she shared her thoughts with someone she idolized—filled me with a deep, quiet satisfaction.

This moment, seeing her so happy, made every ounce of effort worth it. I’d gone through weeks of planning, countless calls, and navigating layers of exclusivity to pull this off, but seeing her eyes shine like this was priceless.

As Leah signed the special editions, each one embellished with intricate details I’d personally overseen, I couldn’t take my eyes off Violet. She was completely engrossed in their conversation, her earlier shyness giving way to a lively enthusiasm. She was gushing about a plot twist in one of Leah’s earlier works, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Her happiness was infectious, and I couldn’t help but smile. Seeing her like this—unfiltered, radiant—made every bit of effort I’d put into tonight worth it.

When the signing was complete, Leah hugged Violet again, and for a moment, I thought she might dissolve into a cloud of pure joy.

“I know this might sound tacky,” Violet said, her voice tinged with nervous excitement, “but do you mind if we take a photo together? My friend would definitely kill me if I don’t.”

Leah laughd. “Of course, I’d love to!”

I stepped in to do the honors, capturing the moment as Violet and Leah stood side by side, their smiles wide. Violet’s happiness was so palpable it practically lit up the room.

After the photos were taken and the goodbyes exchanged, Leah departed, leaving us alone in the grand library once more. The heavy door clicked shut behind her, and silence filled the space, wrapping around us like a comforting cocoon.

“Ryan…” she began, her voice shaky with emotion, but before she could say more, I stepped forward and silenced her with a kiss.

When I pulled back, her eyes glistened, her lips parted in stunned silence.

“Don’t say a word,” I murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Happy birthday, Mouse.”