Chapter 102: Ella-gant
The luggage was lined up neatly by the front door, two sleek suitcases and a smaller leather weekender bag—Ella’s, of course, courtesy of Nicholas’s insistence that she "needed" one that matched her energy. (His words, not hers.)
The early morning light streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, spilling across the marble like melted butter. The whole place smelled faintly of coffee, clean linen, and the lemony polish the housekeeper had used the day before.
Nicholas stood in the foyer, impossibly relaxed in a soft navy T-shirt and linen trousers that hugged him just right. He was barefoot, sipping espresso from a tiny cup, watching Ella with unhurried amusement.
She was in the living room, twirling once in front of the hallway mirror.
"Is this too much?" she asked, gesturing to her outfit—a pale-blue dress with delicate straps and a floaty hem that swayed with every step. "I feel like I look like a Pinterest board."
"You are a Pinterest board," he said smoothly, setting his espresso down on the side table. "And no, it’s perfect. You’re perfect."
Ella narrowed her eyes. "You’re just saying that because you picked the dress."
"I am saying that because I picked the dress," he agreed, walking over and taking her hand. "But also because I want to see the Italian sun hit your shoulders in that exact fabric."
She blushed and tried to hide it with a scoff. "You’re annoying."
"And devastatingly handsome."
She groaned. "Let’s just go before you start reciting poetry."