Esme’s heart pounded violently against her ribs, her mouth slightly agape as her wide, blank eyes remained locked on Rowan, who was still looking up at her from the floor.
A quiet chuckle escaped his lips as he tilted his head, his tone entirely relaxed.
“So…
what do you say?” “What on earth…” Esme breathed, her brain completely short-circuiting.
Rowan raised an eyebrow, a familiar, smooth smirk playing on his lips.
“What’s wrong?” Esme pressed her palm against her forehead, taking a step back as if trying to reorient herself.
“This is a dream.
That’s it.
I’m going to wake up soon…
I just need to pinch myself, and I’ll wake up.” “No, you won’t,” Rowan replied, his voice grounded and steady.
He looked up at her with a calm, amused gaze.
“You can slap me instead if you want to test it.” She stared at him in utter confusion, her eyes darting around the small, modest hotel room before landing back on his face.
“No.” Rowan’s expression softened into a subtle, downturned pout.
“You’re saying no?” “No, no!” Esme interjected quickly, shaking her head.
“No, that’s…
that’s not what I meant.” Rowan’s face instantly lit up, a bright, triumphant smile spreading across his features.
“So you’re saying yes?” Esme blinked, completely taken aback.
“What?!
I never said that!” He tilted his head slightly, watching her frantic reactions.
“Then what do you mean?” Esme dragged her hand down her face, letting out an exhausted breath.
“I don’t know.” Rowan watched her for a long moment.
Slowly, fluidly, he stood up from his knee, rising to his full height.
Esme’s gaze tracked him as he took a slow step toward her, closing the distance between them.
“I don’t want you thinking too hard,” he said softly, his eyes flicking down to the bouquet of roses in his hand before meeting her gaze again.
He raised his left hand, extending a single finger to gently touch the space between her eyebrows.
Esme froze, staring up at him as if under a total spell, her breath catching in her throat.
“You’re going to get wrinkles if you keep frowning so hard,” he murmured gently.
He lowered his hand, his expression turning sincere.
“This isn’t to force you, Esme.
You have free will, and you can use it.” Esme swallowed hard, trying to keep her voice steady.
“What if I say no?” Rowan smirked, bringing his hand up to rest over his chest.
“Then my little heart is going to be deeply hurt.” A sudden, reluctant chuckle slipped past Esme’s lips before she could stop it.
Rowan’s smile widened, his gaze softening further.
“Your smile is so beautiful.” Esme looked up at him, her pulse racing as he let out a slow sigh.
She hesitated, the silence stretching between them, before she asked softly, “And…
what if I say yes?” Rowan took another small step closer, leaning down slightly.
“Then my little heart is going to jump right out of my chest and dance around you.” Esme chuckled again, the sound coming out longer and freer this time.
“Then you’d die without your heart.” “If that’s the case, I’m already meant to be dead,” he replied smoothly, his voice dropping into a low, quiet truth.
“Because my heart has been with you for a long time.” Esme stared at him, entirely speechless.
Rowan let out a soft breath, turning away toward the bed.
He carefully placed the bouquet of roses on the mattress before walking toward the door.
He opened it, stepping out into the corridor.
Esme’s hand instinctively flew to her chest.
“Is he really just leaving?” He closed the door slowly behind him.
Esme waited a beat, then rushed over and pulled the door open, peering down the hallway.
It was completely empty.
A sudden, sharp drop hit her chest.
Her shoulders slouched as she backed into the room and shut the door gently.
“What are you doing, Esme?” she muttered softly to herself, leaning against the wood.
“I don’t know…” She walked back to the bed and picked up the rose bouquet, sliding down onto the edge of the mattress.
She traced the soft red petals with her fingertips, a faint, helpless smile tugging at her lips as her mind replayed every look, every smirk, and every word Rowan had just offered her.
Her cheeks flushed a deep, crimson red.
She instantly shook her head, trying to snap herself out of it.
“No, no, no.
I can’t think like this,” she whispered to the quiet room.
“He’s Eli’s brother.
I’m sure there’s no difference between both of them.
It’s only been a month…
this could all just be a trap.” She pressed her hand against her pounding chest, her eyebrows drawing together.
“But why do I feel like this?” She looked back at the closed door, her voice dropping to a small whisper.
“It’s good that he left.” She kept her eyes fixed on the entrance, the silence in the room feeling heavier by the second.
Her expression softened into genuine sadness.
“Is it?” Looking back down at the flowers, a tiny laugh escaped her.
“He’s so silly…
his heart dancing around…” Then she snapped upright, dropping her hands into her lap.
“What?!
What the fuck, Esme!” She tossed the bouquet onto the bed like it had burned her.
“He can die for all I care!
I need to just wash my face and go to bed.” She turned toward the bathroom, but before she could take two steps, the main hotel room door clicked open.
Esme froze in her tracks.
Rowan walked back inside, holding four massive, high-end designer shopping bags in his hands.
Esme’s eyes widened, her voice barely audible.
“…Rowan?” He closed the door softly behind him and walked over to her.
Esme’s eyes darted down to the pristine logos on the bags, then back up to his face.
Rowan smirked down at her.
“Why is your face so sad?” Esme looked away immediately, her face burning.
“It’s not.” “Were you sad that I was gone?” he teased gently.
“You wish, idiot,” she shot back, though her flustered tone betrayed her completely.
“Why are you back anyway?” Rowan raised the bags slightly.
“I went to get these.” “What are those?” He walked past her to the bed, setting the four bags neatly on the mattress alongside the roses.
“Why don’t you check for yourself?” Esme hesitated, staring at him suspiciously before stepping up to the bed.
She reached for the largest bag first, pulling aside the silk tissue paper.
Nestled inside was a rich, deep-crimson dress.
Her breath hitched.
“No way…” She carefully lifted it out.
It was a knee-length, form-fitting crimson silk dress with impossibly delicate, whisper-thin shoulder straps.
The tailoring was breathtakingly seamless, strikingly simple, yet radiating quiet, unmistakable luxury.
Esme turned to him, holding the silk against her.
“You got this for me?” Rowan chuckled softly, resting his hands in his pockets.
“Who else?” She set the dress aside and reached for the next bag, which contained an elegant, rigid shoe box.
She lifted the lid, and her breath caught entirely.
Inside rested a pair of sculpted black heels crafted from butter-soft Italian leather, anchored by a sleek, dazzling heel structure that looked more like modern art than footwear.
“How do you even know my shoe size?” she asked, looking up at him in complete disbelief.
Rowan tilted his head, a smooth smile touching his lips.
“It’s a secret.” Esme raised an eyebrow, setting the box down next to the dress.
She reached into the third bag and pulled out a structured leather dust bag.
Unzipping it, she gasped out loud.
“You got me a fucking Birkin?!” She turned to face him, staggering back a half-step in genuine shock.
“I’ve…
I’ve literally wanted one of these forever.
Oh my god, this is insane.” She stared down at the flawless leather, entirely stunned, before looking back up at him in awe.
Rowan’s eyes gleamed with quiet amusement.
“Open the last one.” Esme looked down at the final, slightly smaller navy bag sitting on the bed.
She picked it up, her fingers instantly tracing the gold-embossed lettering across the front: Harry Winston.
Her breath hitched.
Looking up at him once, she reached inside and pulled out a heavy, dark navy presentation case.
With trembling fingers, she slowly lifted the lid.
The room seemed to go still.
Resting on the dark velvet was a heavy, seamless wreath of three-dimensional diamonds, designed to catch even the faintest light and scatter it into brilliant, floating ice.
“No fucking way,” she whispered, staring at the blinding jewel in absolute shock.
“This is a lie…” She raised a hand to cover her mouth, her voice trembling.
“You got me a Winston Cluster…” Rowan nodded softly, watching her quietly.
Esme looked at the fortune spread across her cheap hotel mattress, the dress, the heels, the bag, the diamonds, and then looked up at Rowan, her face softening into complete confusion.
“Why?” she asked softly.
Rowan tilted his head.
“Why what?” “Why did you buy all of this?” she asked, her voice quiet.
“I haven’t even given you my answer yet.” Rowan walked toward her slowly, his movements calm and deliberate.
“I bought all of this keeping in mind that there is a seventy percent chance you might reject the date idea.
But at the same time, I had in mind that that doesn’t stop me from loving or taking care of you.” Esme stared up at him, her chest rising and falling quickly.
“But Rowan…
these are all incredibly expensive…” Rowan reached out, his arm wrapping gently around her waist as he pulled her flush against his chest.
His gaze locked onto hers, deep, intense, and unwavering.
“You’re way more expensive than all this,” he murmured, his voice low and steady against her ear.
“So don’t worry about it.
I’d give you way more, and none of it can come close to how expensive you are, my love.” CREATORS’ THOUGHTS Jael123 eeee!!
They’re so cute, right guys.
I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter, as i did writing it.