The sprawling estate glowed softly under the pale light of the moon, its grandeur tucked into the hills of the French Riviera. Inside the towering villa, you stood in front of a full-length mirror, a silk robe draped around your shoulders, the faintest smile tugging at your lips. Everything about your life here with Nicholas felt like a dream, too perfect to be real, yet entirely yours.
You had married young, falling hopelessly in love with the man who not only swept you off your feet but made sure every single day that you were reminded just how deeply he adored you. Nicholas Chavez, your impossibly handsome, endlessly devoted husband, had built an empire of success—but the only thing he truly cared about was you.
As if on cue, the sound of his deep, familiar voice echoed through the hallway. "Are you in here, sweetheart?"
You turned just as Nicholas appeared in the doorway. His tailored shirt, sleeves casually rolled up to his elbows, clung to his broad shoulders, and his dark hair was still damp from his shower. But it was his eyes, alight with nothing but love and mischief, that made your heart stutter.
"I'm here," you said softly, and his lips curved into a warm, knowing smile.
Nicholas strode toward you, a small, elegantly wrapped box in his hand. He didn't stop until he was right in front of you, close enough that his cologne wrapped around you like a second embrace.
"Another surprise?" you teased, your voice playful. "You just got me that ridiculously gorgeous bracelet last week. Are you trying to spoil me?"
"Trying?" he echoed with a grin, sliding an arm around your waist and tugging you against him. "No, sweetheart. I'm succeeding. Open it."
You tilted your head up at him, rolling your eyes with mock exasperation before focusing on the box. Inside was a delicate necklace—platinum, of course—with a cluster of diamonds that sparkled like tiny stars.
Your breath caught. "Nicholas..."
"Do you like it?" he asked, his tone casual, but you could see the anticipation in his eyes, the way he waited for your reaction.
"It's stunning," you breathed, running your fingers lightly over the shimmering stones. "You didn't have to..."
"I didn't have to," he interrupted, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. "But I wanted to. Because you deserve this. You deserve everything, and I'll spend my entire life making sure you know that."
He stepped behind you, gently lifting the necklace and clasping it around your neck. His hands lingered on your shoulders as he met your gaze in the mirror.
"Perfect," he murmured, his voice thick with affection.
You turned to face him fully, your hands resting on his chest. "You are too good to me, you know that?"
Nicholas laughed softly, shaking his head. "Not possible. Loving you, spoiling you—it's the easiest thing I've ever done."
You leaned up, pressing a kiss to his lips. It started as something light, but the way Nicholas responded—his hands slipping to your waist, pulling you closer—made your pulse race. When you finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, and the intensity in his gaze sent a thrill down your spine.
"What's the occasion?" you asked, trying to steady your breathing.
"Do I need one?" he countered, arching a brow. "But if you must know, I thought we'd celebrate. There's a car waiting outside. We're going out."
"A car?" you echoed, narrowing your eyes at him suspiciously. "Nicholas Chavez, what are you up to?"
"You'll see," he said with a wink, already reaching for your hand.
Minutes later, you were seated in the back of a sleek black Rolls Royce, the driver expertly navigating the winding roads. Nicholas held your hand the entire ride, his thumb stroking lazy circles over your knuckles. You tried to guess where he was taking you, but he deflected every question with a smirk or a vague answer.
When the car finally pulled up to its destination, your jaw dropped. The private rooftop restaurant he had reserved—complete with a panoramic view of the glittering city below—looked like it had been plucked straight from a fairytale. A path of roses led to a table lit by soft candlelight, and the faint sound of a string quartet played in the background.
"Nicholas..." you whispered, turning to him in awe.
"Do you like it?" he asked, his expression almost boyish as he waited for your reaction.
"Like it? It's incredible."
His grin widened, and he helped you out of the car, keeping his hand at the small of your back as he guided you to the table. The night was perfect, the conversation flowing easily as you sipped champagne and dined on a feast that Nicholas had curated himself. But as wonderful as it all was, your favorite part was the way he looked at you—as if you were the only thing that mattered in the world.
Hours later, you were back at the villa, your heels forgotten as Nicholas carried you through the door and straight into the master suite.
"Put me down," you laughed, though you made no effort to wriggle free.
"Never," he teased, setting you down gently on the plush bed before joining you.
You turned to him, your hand resting against his cheek. "You really didn't have to do all of that tonight, you know. I already have everything I could ever want."
His expression softened, and he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead. "And I have you," he said simply. "That's the only thing I'll ever need. But showing you how much you mean to me? That's my favorite thing in the world."
Your heart swelled, and you pulled him closer, your lips finding his in a kiss that was full of all the love and gratitude you couldn't put into words.
As the night stretched on, Nicholas held you close, his arms wrapped protectively around you. And as you drifted to sleep in his embrace, you knew without a doubt that you were the luckiest woman in the world.
