Chapter 148 He Thought Of Everything By the time I got home, the first thing I saw was a large black box sitting on my bed like it had been waiting for me all day. My heart immediately picked up speed. I dropped my purse on the floor without caring where it landed and hurried toward it, unable to stop the smile tugging at my lips. The box was elegant—thick matte paper, tied with a ribbon that gleamed faintly under the bedroom light. A white envelope sat on top, Roman’s handwriting etched across it in that confident, deliberate scrawl I’d know anywhere. “I’ve imagined you wearing this. But just like every imagination of you, reality will be much more breathtaking. See you at 8, my love.” A laugh escaped me, half giggle, half sigh. I pressed the card against my chest for a second, feeling giddy warmth bloom inside me. It wasn’t just the note—it was the thought behind it. The precision. The intention. He didn’t just send gifts, he crafted moments. I pulled at the ribbon until it slid loose, and then lifted the lid with both hands, my pulse fluttering in my throat.I gasped. Inside was a cloud of soft pink fabric. It was a dress—a stunning baby pink that looked like it had been designed to melt against my skin. The material shimmered faintly when I touched it, smooth as water. I held it up against my body and turned toward the mirror by instinct. It was short, delicate, resting just above the knees. The neckline dipped softly, not too much, just enough to tease. I traced the edges of the fabric with my fingers, marveling at how weightless it felt. “Oh my God…” I whispered, almost to myself. The moment I held it up, I could already picture Roman’s eyes when he saw me in it. The way they’d darken. The way his breath would catch just slightly before he said something smooth that would still manage to steal my composure. I ran back to the bed and saw more inside the box—a pair of silver heels and a matching purse, both gleaming. The purse was structured and sleek, with a tiny Roman logo embossed in gold at the corner. “He thought of everything.” I grinned, shaking my head as I pressed my fingers to my lips to keep from squealing. I checked the time. 6:30. I had exactly ninety minutes to get ready.I dashed into the bathroom. The mirror fogged up as steam filled the space, and I stepped under the hot water, letting it wash the day off me. I scrubbed, exfoliated, waxed—every little ritual of preparation becoming part of my excitement. It wasn’t just about looking good for him, it was about feeling good. Reclaiming that little power that came with anticipation. By the time I stepped out, my skin literally glowed. I wrapped myself in a towel and stood before the mirror again, wiping away the steam. My reflection stared back at me, cheeks flushed, eyes bright. Excitement all over. “Okay, Savannah,” I whispered. “No panicking. You’ve got this.” I moisturized, dried my hair, and started on my makeup. I kept it soft—light foundation, a little highlighter on my cheekbones, a flick of mascara to add volume to my lashes. I wasn’t a pro, and I didn’t want to overdo it. Roman always said he loved me no matter what I looked like. But I'm certain that love declaration will be thrown out the window once I mistakenly end up looking like a mask on our date as lovers. For my lips, I hesitated between a bold red and a gentle pink gloss. Red was drama, confidence, and control. But pink… pink was softness. It was romantic, it was vulnerable. It was me tonight. I went with pink.I let my hair fall down my shoulders in loose waves. Nothing too structured—just fluffed out enough to frame my face. When I finally stepped into the dress, it felt like slipping into a dream. The fabric clung and draped in all the right places, hugging my waist, skimming over my hips, giving my breasts a rather endowed look. I spun once in front of the mirror and caught myself smiling like a teenager with a crush. “Wow,” I murmured. “He really did imagine this.” The heels fit perfectly too. Not too high—Roman always remembered that I wasn’t great with stilettos. I walked a few steps, testing them, and caught the faint shimmer of my perfume in the air. It was the one with notes of jasmine and vanilla that always made him lean a little closer whenever I wore it. I sprayed it once on my wrist, once behind my ear, and once at the base of my neck. By the time I was done, it was exactly 7:58. My heart began to race as if it somehow knew he was near. And then—knock knock. I turned with a smile. Then grabbed my purse, slid my phone inside, and took one last glance around the room. Nothing forgotten.“I’m coming!” I called, careful not to trip in my heels as I made my way to the door. When I opened it, my breath caught. Roman stood there like something out of a perfectly dangerous daydream—black pants, a midnight shirt that looked impossibly expensive and impossibly well-fitted, sleeves rolled up just enough to show the veins on his forearms. His hair was slicked back, sharp and deliberate, and there was still that faint stubble darkening his jaw. Overall he looked really hot and dressed to match me. Not overdressed. Not underdressed. But his eyes… They were the first thing I noticed. The way they moved over me, slow and reverent, like I was something to be studied, not rushed. “Wow,” he said softly, his voice low enough that it sent a ripple down my spine. “You look… exquisite, my love.” My breath hitched. The words my love always did something to me, no matter how often he said them. “Thank you,” I murmured, a little shy. “You don’t look bad yourself.” He didn’t even blink. “Still not nearly as good as you.”Only then did I notice the bouquet he was holding behind his back. He brought it forward, and my chest tightened. Yellow tulips. Not roses. Not lilies. Tulips. Simple. Bright. Not cliché. They used to be my favorite when I was younger—before I even met him. I’d once mentioned it offhand on a random day years ago. The fact that he remembered made my throat tighten. “They’re beautiful,” I said softly, taking them from him. “You are,” he replied simply. I bit my lip, trying not to melt under his gaze. “You didn’t have to do all this, you know.” “I did,” he said. “Because I wanted to. And because you deserve more than the ordinary.” There it was again—that tone. The one that made it impossible to argue. I looked down at the tulips, running my fingers over the petals. “Thank you, Roman,” I said, quieter now. “I love them.” He smiled, and there was something softer in it than I expected. He leaned forward, his free hand brushing lightly against my arm as he whispered, “Ready to go?” “Yeah,” I said, locking the door behind me. We walked together, his hand at the small of my back, guiding me gently like he always did. The faint scent of his cologne—dark cedar and something faintly spicy—mingled with my perfume, creating a mix that felt too perfect to be accidental. The doors opened, and he gestured for me to step out first. Every time I glanced at him, his gaze was already on me. “What?” I asked finally, laughing. “You keep staring at me.” “Because I can’t believe you’re real.” His voice was so soft I almost didn’t catch it. My laughter faltered. The sincerity in his tone hit somewhere deep. “You’re saying that like you don’t see me every day.” “Seeing you doesn’t mean I stop being amazed.” I didn’t have an answer for that. My chest felt tight, my heart impossibly full. I looked away before I did something stupid—like cry or confess how much I loved him right then and there. His hand found mine. His palm was warm and steady. Outside, the car waited. He opened the door for me, and as I slipped into the seat, the faint scent of leather and dark cedar wrapped around me. The drive was quiet but charged. The kind of silence that didn’t need words because everything was already being said through the space between us—the glances, the brushes of fingers, the steady rhythm of shared breath. When he finally spoke, it was low and deliberate. “You know what I thought when I saw you at the door?” I turned to him, smiling. “What?” “That I was right.” “About what?” He looked over, eyes glinting. “That imagination could never compete with reality.” I laughed, but my stomach fluttered. He meant it. The way he said it, the way his voice dropped—there was no teasing in it. Just admiration, raw and honest. I looked out the window to hide my blush. The city lights blurred against the glass, and for a second, it felt like the world outside didn’t exist. It was just him and me. And the kind of night that promised to become a memory I’d keep tucked in my chest for a long time.When the car stopped, he came around to open my door. His hand found mine again. I stepped out, the heels clicking softly against the pavement. The scent of night air mingled with perfume and tulips and anticipation. He leaned in slightly, his voice brushing against my ear. “Ready, my love?” I smiled up at him, fingers tightening around his. “Always.” And when his eyes met mine, the look there wasn’t just admiration—it was worship, the kind that made the world stand still.