Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
Sienna
When Milo returns to the living area carrying a white box tied with a pink ribbon, I sit up so fast on the couch that I almost feel lightheaded.
My eyes bulge.
I know that packaging. I’ve walked past that exact boutique’s signature box in my daydreams more times than I can count.
“Milo… what is that?” My voice comes out higher than usual, a mix of suspicion and barely contained excitement.
He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he crosses the room and sets the box gently on the coffee table right in front of me. Then he does something that steals every ounce of breath from my lungs.
He kneels.
One knee on the floor, right there in front of the couch, he looks up at me with those storm-gray eyes that always seem to see straight through every wall I’ve ever built.
Moonlight filters through the deck doors, catching the sharp line of his jaw and the light scruff along it.
My heart stutters so hard I’m sure he can hear it.
Oh my God. What the fuck is happening right now?
He gives me that quiet, devastating half-smile, then reaches for the box. “Just trust me, okay?”
I swallow hard and nod. He unties the ribbon with careful fingers, then lifts the lid. Inside, nestled in layers of pink tissue paper, are the shoes.
The strappy silver heels I’d stared at in the boutique window every time I walked past it in New York. The ones with delicate ankle straps and tiny crystal details that caught the light like tiny stars.
I remember standing outside the window one rainy afternoon for a full ten minutes, completely mesmerized, imagining how they’d feel on my feet and how they’d make my legs look endless. Then I’d talk myself out of it, like I always do.
My hand flies to my mouth. “Oh my God,” I breathe, eyes wide with disbelief. “Milo… how?”
“I asked Aria,” he says simply, lifting one shoe from the box. “She told me exactly which ones and your size.”
“You asked Aria… when?” I’m still staring, half-convinced this is a dream.
He holds the shoe up, letting the crystals catch the light and cast tiny rainbows across the room. “A few days ago by the pool. I had someone fly them in from the boutique on the mainland this morning.”
I stare at the heels, then back at him, completely stunned. My throat tightens, and tears prick at the corners of my eyes before I blink them back. “You… you had them flown in? For me?”
He nods, eyes never leaving mine. “I saw your eyes light up when you mentioned them that one time. You tried to play it off, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
” His voice softens, almost shy. “I wanted you to have something that made you feel the way you deserve to feel. Beautiful. Wanted. Worthy of every pretty thing.”
A single tear slips down my cheek. I shake my head, overwhelmed in the best way. “Milo, I can’t accept these. They’re so expensive. It’s incredibly thoughtful, but—”
“You can,” he cuts me off. “And you will.”
He shifts closer, carefully lifting my right foot onto his lap. His hands are warm and steady as he slips off my sandal, his fingers brushing the arch of my foot and sending sparks racing up my leg. Then he slides the new shoe on.
The fit is perfect—snug but not tight, the crystals sparkling against my sun-kissed skin. His fingers linger as he fastens the ankle strap, tracing the curve of my ankle with his thumb.
Why does this feel so intimate? He’s just putting shoes on me, yet it’s as if he’s touching every guarded part of me at once.
“They’re perfect,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “Just like I imagined.”
I watch him, my heart hammering so hard I’m sure he can hear it. This big, strong, ridiculously successful man is on his knees in front of me, buckling my shoes like I’m some kind of princess in a fairytale I never let myself believe in.
And I am absolutely, completely undone.
Because I don’t do this. I’ve always kept things light, fun, and temporary. Easy to walk away from. But Milo… he’s worming his way in with quiet, thoughtful gestures that chip away at every defense I have. Every time he looks at me like I’m the only thing that matters, my walls crack a little more.
It scares me how much I like it.
How much I need it.
When he finishes with the second shoe, he stays kneeling, hands resting lightly on my calves, looking up at me. I stare down at my feet. The crystals sparkle like tiny stars against my skin. I wiggle my toes, watching the light dance, and more tears slip down my cheeks before I can stop them.
“I can’t believe you did this,” I whisper, my voice thick with emotion. “No one’s ever done anything like this for me before.”
Milo reaches up and gently wipes the tears away with his thumb. “Then let me be the first. And the last.”
I let out a watery laugh and lean forward, cupping his face in both hands. His skin is warm beneath my palms, the faint stubble tickling my fingers. I kiss him softly at first, a brush of lips, but it quickly deepens as he rises to meet me.
His mouth is gentle yet insistent, tasting faintly of mint. One of his hands slides up to cradle the back of my neck, fingers threading lightly into my hair. When we finally break apart, I rest my forehead against his, breathing him in.
“You really had them flown in?” I ask, still a little dazed. “Just for me? Because I mentioned them once?”
He nods, his nose brushing mine. “I’d fly the whole store in if it made you look like that,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb across my cheek again. “You deserve pretty things, Sienna. Even the ones you try to talk yourself out of wanting. Especially those.”
I look down at the heels again, hardly believing they’re real. It’s ridiculous how happy they make me. They’re just shoes, I tell myself. But they’re not. They’re proof he listens. That he sees me.
“I love them,” I admit softly. “But you really didn’t have to do this—”
“I wanted to,” he cuts me off, still on his knees in front of me, hands resting on my thighs. “Because I like you, Sienna. A lot. And because you deserve them.”
I bite my lower lip as a flush creeps up my neck. “You know I’m going to wear these every chance I get, right?” I say, trying to playfully mask how fast my heart is racing. “Even if I’m just walking to the fridge for orange juice.”
Milo chuckles. “Good. I want to see you in them every day if you’ll let me.”
My breath catches. He’s dangerous. This whole thing is dangerous. I don’t do this. I don’t fall. But even as the familiar panic whispers in the back of my mind, I’m leaning in again, wrapping my arms around his neck and drawing him closer.
The kiss is slower, deeper. His hands glide up my thighs to my waist, gripping gently as he rises from his knees to join me on the couch without breaking the kiss. I shift to make room for him, the heels clicking softly against the floor as I move.
“Milo,” I whisper against his lips between kisses, my fingers tangling in his hair. “You’re making this really hard for me.”
“Making what hard?” he asks innocently, but the way his mouth trails along my jaw, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses, tells me he knows exactly what he’s doing.
I shiver, tilting my head to give him better access. “You know what.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he murmurs against my skin. “Enlighten me, baby.”
“Milo…”
“One day at a time, remember?” he whispers, pulling back just enough to look at me.
I stare at him, my chest tight with too many feelings I can’t name. Then I nod and kiss him again, harder this time, like I never want to stop.