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He has silver hoops and dark metallic studs on his ears and each piercing somehow adds to the effortless and dangerous beauty of his face.
And then there’s his hair.
His black-and-white locks are gathered into a sleek bun at the top of his head, exposing the sharp lines of his jaw and the jewelry scattered along his ears. The black catches hints of blue in the daylight, while the white gleams almost silver against the snow.
He truly is the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
His thick brows are slightly furrowed as he listens to one of the photographers. His jaw is defined, his mouth settled into that familiar line that makes him look perpetually seconds away from telling someone to go fuck themselves.
And his eyes are so dark they look almost black from here.
I watch him quietly from a distance as his gaze sweeps across the set before settling on me.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
He doesn’t smile immediately. He simply looks at me, and something in his expression softens.
Then his mouth curves.
A small and quiet smile.
One meant just for me.
My heart stumbles.
Once.
Twice.
“Everything okay?” Stevie asks.
“I’m fine. Let’s do this.”
Before Stevie can say another word, movement catches my attention. Two handlers emerge from the opposite side of the estate, each leading a horse.
One is a magnificent black stallion, powerful and elegant, with a mane as dark as the night.
The other makes me pause because it’s beautifully and wonderfully white.
I watch as its mane moves like silk in the breeze, making it look less like an ordinary horse and more like a fictional winter queen dreamed it into existence.
“It matches your outfit,” Stevie whispers.
I glance down at my white-and-silver dress, white leather gloves, and long ivory coat.
The concept is truly magnificent.
Mom really is a genius.
Feeling eyes on me, I turn and meet Stephen’s eyes across the snow.
And like something straight out of a movie, everything goes quiet.
I’ve never admitted this to myself but it’s something I can’t deny any longer.
