Page 84 of His To Unravel
“Thank you, Nate.”
I hold her gaze for a moment longer than necessary. “You don’t have to thank me. I like seeing you happy.” And I truly do. I want to make her this happy every day. I want to weave her joy into the very fabric of our lives until she can’t imagine a world without me in it.
I settle into the seat beside her and nod at the driver. “Take the long way.”
The car pulls smoothly from the runway, the city spreading out before us in glittering gold and silver streaks. Olivia leans into the window, her reflection soft against the glass. The lights of Fifth Avenue burn in the distance, each flicker catching the edge of her eyes.
“It’s beautiful atnight,” she says.
I watch her, not the skyline. “Yes.”
She’s not just seeing the city. She’s tasting possibility. I want her to view New York the way I do—alive, endless, a place where anything is possible. I want her to feel the pulse of it, to believe that her dreams could unfurl beneath the glow of these lights.
As for me, somewhere along the way, a life with her in Manhattan has become my only dream.
The streets narrow as we approach Midtown, the city rising up around us in glittering glass and steel.
Olivia turns toward me, her eyes bright with curiosity.
“Where are we staying?” she asks.
“Aman.” I say. “It’s peaceful. You’ll like it.”
Her brows lift slightly. “A hotel?”
I nod.
“But…don’t you have a place here?”
“I do,” I say, keeping my gaze on the road ahead. “But I wanted to take you somewhere different. Somewhere we can disappear for a few days. No interruptions. Just you and me.”
A smile tugs at her lips. “Disappearing does sound nice…”
“Good,” I reply, glancing at her as her head rests against the seat. “Because I plan on spoiling you until you forget what day it is.”
That earns me a quiet laugh, and the tension in her shoulders melts away as the car slips deeper into the city. I let the silence stretch, content to let Manhattan speak for me.
When the car rolls to a stop outside Aman New York, the staff is already waiting. One of them opens her door, and I slip out after her.
We bypass the front desk entirely. The manager greets me by name, a swift exchange that ends with them escorting us to the private elevator leading to our suite.
Olivia says nothing, but when her hand brushes mine as we enter the elevator, I curl myfingers around it.
When the doors open, she steps into the suite first, her footsteps slowing. She takes in the room—the sprawling glass windows framing the skyline, the low hum of the city beneath us, distant and unobtrusive. The room is silent, save for the sound of her breathing as she approaches the window.
She presses her palm lightly against the glass, eyes bright. I stand behind her, close enough that I can feel the warmth of her body through the fabric of her coat.
“I can see everything from here,” she whispers, in awe.
“That’s the idea.”
I want her to see this as more than a vacation. This is a glimpse of the life I intend to give her. A life where she will want for nothing, where the world will shrink to the size of our shared existence. A life that revolves around the two of us.
And with each passing second, I know she’s beginning to feel it too.
Later that evening, a private chef arrives at the suite, preparing dinner by candlelight as Olivia gazes out at the view. We dine near the window, the glittering lights of Manhattan sprawling beneath us like a painting that belongs to her alone. I let the conversation drift, weaving subtle threads about the opportunities New York holds, the life she could have here beside me.
When she laughs, the sound echoes in my mind long after the plates are cleared. I watch her closely, imprinting every flicker of expression into memory.
