Chapter 8

8

ELLA

December 24th

Vienna, Austria

“We should get mulled wine,” I say, following the scent of spices and warmth.

I tug Oliver with me, an arm wrapped around his, thicker than usual because of the massive coat he’s wearing.

My breath puffs in the air as I stride to the stall. Lights twinkle between the stalls, bright and leading the way towards the large Christmas tree at the end of the market. We’ve been here a few days, and the jump in temperature has been a shock coming from summer, but it’s fascinating experiencing a white Christmas. Different to our warm Christmas back home.

Tiny shards land on my cheeks and melt. For one, there’s snow.

For another, there’s mulled wine.

I take the wine, hand one to Oliver, and move away from the crowd of people waiting. Warm spices trail down my throat and heat me from the inside.

“Think Maddy will be fine with the kidnapping?”

I snort. “She’ll be suffocated in Daniel love. She’ll have the time of her life.”

Oliver scrunches his nose. “Must you say it like that?”

“I only speak the truth. She’ll enjoy spending Christmas with him, even if she doesn’t admit it.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“You know I’m right. You don’t want to admit it because he’s your friend.”

He sighs. “Yeah.”

I hide my smugness the best I can and walk past pastries and wood carvings.

“I’ve decided what I want to do,” Oliver says abruptly.

“That’s great.” Every spare moment he’s been trying to figure out what to do when he steps down as CEO. He’ll remain on the board, but he’s been quiet about what he wants to do instead. “What did you decide?”

He swallows, opens his mouth, closes it, and gulps wine. “I thought I could work with you.”

My eyes widen in surprise. “You want to be a piercer?”

He shakes his head. “I want to run the business side of it for you. Then you can focus on jewellery design and take on clients when you want to.” His fingers dent the cardboard cup. “But if you don’t want to, I can?—”

I smash my lips against his, cutting him off and tasting the spices on his tongue. I press kisses on his lips and pull away when I move my hand too enthusiastically and splash wine on my glove.

“You want to run Chic with me?”

“If you’ll have me.”

I scoff. “If I’ll have you. Of course I want that. Not only are you awesome at business, it means I can do what I want. And see you more often. You really want this?” I ask, trying to contain my excitement in case he changes his mind.

“I do.”

I wrap my arms around his shoulders the best I can with my coat and kiss him.

“I love you,” I murmur against his lips.

He smiles and pulls away. “I love you too.” He brushes a finger across my cheek, grasps my hand, and walks towards the Christmas tree. “Good thing I let you pierce my dick.”

I laugh. “You could have asked me out.”

“You could have asked too.”

I hum. “Maybe it was good you got it pierced. Neither of us would have said anything otherwise.”

“Guess it’s also good I left my wallet deliberately then.”

My gaze shoots to his, and I shove him gently before tugging him tighter against me. “I knew you did it on purpose. God, look at us. How pathetic.”

“But we made it.”

“We did.”

And I’m glad we did.

My thumb nudges the engagement ring he gave me yesterday.

Forever and always.