The soft hum of a string quartet floated through the grand estate as you stepped out onto the balcony, the evening air cool against your skin. The sprawling gardens below were illuminated by fairy lights, the soft glow of lanterns creating an almost dreamlike setting. Guests dressed in black tie and shimmering gowns moved like chess pieces across the manicured lawns, champagne flutes in hand, laughter and whispered secrets weaving through the night.
You tugged at the edges of your vintage silk dress, the heavy fabric clinging to you in all the right places. It was beautiful, but the world you were in wasn't yours. Not really. This was Nicholas's world—where old money talked and new money listened, where power was more than a currency.
You caught sight of him through the French doors, standing by the marble fireplace. Nicholas was dressed in a sharp black tuxedo, his bow tie slightly undone, giving him that effortless charm that only he could pull off. He held a glass of whiskey in one hand, his other casually tucked into his pocket as he laughed with a group of men who all seemed too serious for their own good.
Then, as if sensing you were watching, he turned. His smile faltered, replaced by something softer, something that belonged only to you. He excused himself without hesitation, weaving through the crowd with the kind of confidence that made people stop and look.
"Are you hiding from me?" he asked, stepping onto the balcony. His voice was low, intimate, as if the two of you were the only ones in the world.
"Not from you," you replied, leaning against the stone railing. "Just... this." You gestured to the opulence around you. "It's a lot."
Nicholas placed his glass on the edge of the railing and stepped closer. "It is a lot," he admitted, his dark eyes locking with yours. "But you make it bearable."
You rolled your eyes playfully. "Charming as always."
He smirked, a glint of mischief flashing across his face. "You knew that when you fell for me."
"And yet, here I am," you said, your voice teasing but full of affection.
Nicholas moved even closer, his hands resting on either side of you on the railing, trapping you in the best way possible. "You don't have to play their game, you know. I know how they can be—how this world can be."
"Money talks," you said softly, echoing the lyrics that had been stuck in your head all day.
"It does," he agreed. "But I don't care what it says. I don't care about any of this." He gestured to the estate, the glittering crowd behind you. "The only thing I care about is you."
You swallowed hard, feeling the sincerity in his words. "Nick, this is your life. You fit here. I don't."
He tilted his head, his thumb brushing lightly against your jaw. "You fit here because I'm here. Don't you see that? You're the only real thing in this whole charade. You're the reason any of it matters."
Your heart pounded as he leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that felt like a promise. For a moment, the party disappeared—the music, the lights, the whispers. All you could feel was him.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his voice a low murmur. "Come with me."
"Where?"
"Anywhere. Away from all this." His smile was boyish, reckless. "We'll take my car, leave the money, the pretense, the whole damn thing. Just you and me."
You laughed softly, your fingers tracing the lapel of his jacket. "You'd give all this up for me?"
"In a heartbeat," he said, his gaze unwavering.
And for the first time that night, you believed him.
