Chapter Twenty-five
NINA
Eight Years Earlier
ITALY
Shock.
That was the only word to describe what I felt. Utter, paralyzing, mind-numbing shock.
After weeks of begging my mom to let me sleep over at Ronan’s, she finally caved. Granted, I had to endure the world’s most mortifying Italian Mom Lecture—complete with dramatic hand gestures, a rosary clutch, and a speech about self-respect and decision-making—but she said yes.
And now, here I was in Ronan’s room.
His room in his house was quite literally the size of a school.
Maybe even two. Every inch of the place looked like something out of a luxury magazine—white marble floors, gold accents, and chandeliers that belonged in a royal palace.
It was extravagant but somehow still warm, like a home filled with history and stories behind every door.
Ronan walked up to me, his gaze soft and knowing. He cupped my face, his thumb grazing my cheek, then kissed me. The feel of his lips made my stomach flip, and as the kiss deepened, a dizzying rush swept over me.
“You can’t ever keep your hands off me,” I teased, smiling up at him.
He smirked. “I’d rather die.”
My heart did an actual somersault.
Before I could even process that, he squeezed my hand and tugged me gently toward the door. “Come on.”
I blinked. “Where?”
“I wanna show you something.”
I followed him through the endless halls of his house, past towering paintings and elegant furniture, until we finally reached a set of double doors. He pushed them open, leading me into a garden.
It was enclosed in glass, like a secret greenhouse hidden inside his already massive estate.
Soft golden lights illuminated the space, casting a dreamy glow over everything.
Climbing roses stretched toward the ceiling, rows of vibrant flowers lined the stone pathways, and a little fountain sat in the center, its water shimmering under the lights.
It felt like something out of a fairytale, and I was mesmerized.
I followed his gaze to the setup.
Fabric was everywhere. Rolls of satin, silk, and tulle spilled across the table, with some cut into delicate patterns and others folded into careful designs. A dress form stood nearby, wrapped in the first beginnings of a gown.
I inhaled sharply. “Whoa.”
Ronan grinned. “Date night.”
My heart flipped. “Oh my gosh.”
He pulled me forward, leading me to the table, where swatches of fabric were laid out in a row. Each one had something written on it in ink—small notes in his handwriting, delicate and precise.
Curiously, I picked one up. It was a piece of soft, icy blue silk, and in the corner, he had written, Winter.
I glanced at him, confused but breathless. “Ro, what is this?
He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck, suddenly looking almost shy.
Which was crazy because Ronan was never shy.
“I was trying to think of the best way to say this,” he admitted. “But then I remembered, this is your world. Fashion. Creativity. So, I figured... why not use that?”
I looked down at the fabrics again, running my fingers over the different textures.
Velvet. Satin. Lace.
He stepped closer, taking my hands. His voice was softer now, more serious. “Tesoro, you’re my winter.”
My breath caught.
“You’re everything I crave in the coldest moments,” he continued.
“The warmth, the beauty, and what makes the world feel alive again when everything else is frozen. You make me feel… ” He exhaled sharply, like he was struggling to put it into words.
“You make me feel like I don’t want to go through a single season without you.
Not winter. Not summer. Not anything in between. ”
My chest tightened. My fingers curled around his.
“So, what I’m saying,” he said, “is that I don’t want to be some guy you spend time with or someone you run to when things get complicated. I want to be yours.”
He picked up another swatch. This one was soft, delicate white lace.
“Be my girlfriend, Nina.”
I stared at him, my heart pounding against my ribs.
For a second, I couldn’t even breathe.
“Yes.”
The word rushed out of me before I could even process it, but it felt so right.
His whole face lit up. He let out a breath, relief and excitement mixing together, before pulling me into the warmest, happiest hug.
I thought I might melt from how much I liked him because somehow, even in a house the size of a school, in a glass garden that felt like magic, Ronan still managed to make me feel like the only person in the world.
I turned back to the table, my fingers still trembling. My heart hadn’t stopped racing, but curiosity tugged at me. Carefully, I flipped over one of the other swatches, expecting to see more of his handwriting.
But instead—
Embroidery.
The thread was stitched neatly into the fabric, each letter carefully embroidered like someone had taken their time with every single stroke.
My breath hitched as I ran my fingers over the delicate stitches.
Brave.
I flipped another.
Radiant.
Then another.
Unstoppable.
A soft laugh escaped me as I turned to him, my chest so full I thought it might burst. “You embroidered these?”
Ronan shifted beside me, rubbing the back of his neck. “I tried,” he admitted, his lips twitching. “Mamma and Lucio helped me.”
I let out a surprised laugh, the image of Ronan sitting with his Mamma Lucia and his twin, stitching words into fabric, making my heart flip over itself.
“Imagine that,” I teased.
He smirked, but there was something warm in his gaze. He reached for one of the swatches, running his thumb over the thread.
“These words,” he said softly, “describe you.”
I swallowed, my fingers tightening around the pieces of fabric as I glanced down at them again.
Kind. Fierce. Passionate.
He had embroidered them himself. With help, sure, but still. He had put in the effort. He had taken the time to think of these words, to bring them to life with his own hands.
Emotion swelled in my chest. “Ronan…”
He shrugged, but I could see the hint of pink creeping along his cheekbones. “I wanted you to know I see you, Nina,” he whispered. “I see all of you.”
The breath left my lungs.
I had no words.
So instead, I stepped closer, holding the swatches to my chest like they were the most precious thing in the world, and in that moment, they were.
Because this—this—was Ronan.
Underneath all the teasing, all the confidence, all the easy charm, he had the kindest, biggest heart, and he had given it to me.