Nicholas didn't say a word at first. He just stared.
Ella was halfway up the stairs when she noticed. He was leaning against the entrance to the rooftop restaurant, hands in his coat pockets, looking like something out of a fantasy novel—except sharper, more dangerous, and entirely too smug.
But not cold.
Not closed-off.
Tonight, he looked like a man who had won something—and was about to thoroughly enjoy it.
"Is that awe on your face, Mr. Carter?" Ella teased as she reached the top step.
Nicholas tilted his head. "No, awe would be an understatement."
"Oh?"
"I'm trying to think of a word stronger than 'devastated.'" He stepped closer, eyes trailing over her slowly. "You just ended me, Ella."
She laughed, the sound bright in the night air. "You're being dramatic."
"I'm being honest." He offered his arm, which she took. "If you'd told me you owned a dress that could derail global economies, I'd have canceled all my meetings and rescheduled my life."
