Without missing a beat, she pulled out her phone, her fingers flying across the screen. “Should I add a name to the card?”
“Nina Moretti. Leave the sender anonymous,” I replied. “And add another donation to the fashion show we’re attending later. Make it two million.”
Her eyes widened for a brief moment, an unusual crack in her composed demeanor. “Two million euros? For a… fashion show?”
“Two million euros forherfashion show,” I clarified, keeping my tone steady. “Let me know when it’s arranged. We leave at six-thirty tomorrow. The show starts at eight, and I want us there early.”
She nodded and swiftly dialed as she exited to handle the details.
“One last thing, Rachel,” I called after her. “You scheduled all the media outlets, right?”
“Yes,” she confirmed, glancing back. “I also called in your favor with Federico Ortega.”
My head snapped up at the mention of the name. Federico Ortega, the Spanish billionaire and fashion mogul—a pioneer in the industry, whose daughter I’d once treated and helped with recovery.
“He’ll be there?” I asked, surprised.
“Him and his entire team,” she replied. “He said he’d do anything for you.”
I smiled faintly, satisfaction settling in. “Tomorrow will be great. Everything she deserves.”
Chapter Eight
RONAN
Eight Years Earlier
NEW YORK CITY
If you’d told me I’d end up here, in a relationship with the most stunning woman I’d ever laid eyes on, I would’ve laughed it off. But life had a way of surprising me, and that’s exactly what Nina was—a surprise. She was my calm in the storm, my winter, and she became everything I didn’t know I needed.
Winter, because she had this rare way of making everything around her fall into silence, like the world paused just for her, and it did. She was my quiet season, a soothing calm when life felt loud and unpredictable. Winter wasn’t only cold—it was pure and unassuming, almost untouched, and that was what shefelt like to me.
She didn’t realize that her being near was enough to make the cold feel less biting or to make the darkness seem gentler. When she smiled, and her eyes reflected the glisten of fresh snow, I swear, she could have stopped time.
She was my snowflake.
The snow was trickling down around us, gentle and slow, blanketing the world in soft white. She shivered, tugging her scarf higher, her cheeks and nose bright from the cold. She hated winter, always saying she couldn’t stand how it made her skin sting, but she’d still meet me under a starlit sky, letting me warm her hands in mine.
“Ronan, what’s going on?” she asked, pulling her knitted pink scarf tighter. “We’re going to miss the Christmas lights in Central Park.”
We were nearly there, her footsteps slowing as she took in the sight of the warehouse, dusted in fresh snow under the pale light of the streetlamp. The city sounds were barely a hum, leaving only us and the crunch of snow beneath our feet. She looked at me, a bit of concern in her eyes.
I smiled, taking her face in my hands and feeling the warmth of her cheeks beneath my thumbs. I leaned in and kissed her softly, letting my lips linger, trying to melt away any doubts she had. “Relax,tesoro,” I murmured against her lips. “I promise this is worth it.”
Her eyes searched mine, uncertainty lingering, but she followed me as I opened the door. I flipped the lights on, and her gasp echoed through the space. The runway, bathed in a golden glow, transformed the old warehouse into something new.
Her eyes widened as women in stunning dresses—dresses she’d made—stepped forward. Each design, from complex beadwork to luxurious fabric drapes, was sewn by her hands. She was frozen beside me, her hand covering her mouth as shelooked at them, each model moving with grace, embodying the life she’d breathed into those dresses.
“Tesoro,” I said quietly, breaking her trance.
She turned to me, her eyes shimmering with tears. She swallowed, her voice a whisper. “Ronan, what...?”
“It’s always been a dream of yours to have a fashion show featuring your designs,” I said, feeling my chest tighten at the look in her eyes. “I had no idea what to do to make your holiday season better, and then I thought… why not have the Nina Moretti fashion show?”
She let out a soft, broken laugh, her hand reaching up to touch my face, her fingers barely grazing my cheek.“You didn’t.”
I nodded, brushing a stray tear from her cheek. “I wanted to give you a night where you’d see yourself the way I see you and where you’d see how incredible your work is.”
