The Stranger I Married-Chapter 51: She was his

Nicholas couldn’t sit still.

He’d already checked his watch for the fifth time in two minutes, pacing the length of the penthouse living room like a man waiting for news that might change the course of his entire life.

"Sir," his assistant offered gently, peeking around the corner, "she’s still with the stylist team. They said they’re almost done."

"I’m not nervous," Nicholas muttered, adjusting the cuff of his tuxedo jacket for no reason at all. "I just—don’t like waiting."

The assistant wisely excused herself before he could ask her to check again.

Nicholas raked a hand through his hair, exhaling a sharp breath. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the stylists. He did. He’d hand-picked them—only the best. But part of him had been imagining this moment all day. The moment he saw her. Not Ella in her usual oversized sweaters or tired jeans. But her—the version of her no one had seen yet. The version he suspected had always been there, just quietly hidden beneath layers of practicality and survival.

He turned toward the hallway at the sound of soft footsteps. Then, a voice floated in:

"Ready?"

His heart skipped.

And then she stepped out.

Nicholas froze.

Time stilled. So did his breathing.

Ella stood at the end of the hallway, hesitating just slightly. Her hands smoothed the sides of the deep emerald green gown.

The fabric shimmered like starlight, hugging her curves before flaring out at the bottom in a way that was both regal and dangerously beautiful.

Her hair had been styled into soft waves, one side tucked behind her ear, revealing the delicate curve of her jawline and the glittering emerald earring that matched the necklace she’d reluctantly agreed to wear. Her makeup was soft, enhancing the natural glow of her skin, her lips brushed with a warm, inviting hue that made his mouth go dry.

She looked like a dream. No, she looked like every dream he’d ever had.

And she was his.

Nicholas blinked. Once. Then again.

"Say something," Ella murmured, suddenly shy under the weight of his stare.

"I..." He took a step forward, then another. "You’re—" He stopped, let out a stunned laugh, and shook his head. "You’re going to be the death of me."

Ella flushed instantly, her hands twisting in the silky fabric. "Nicholas..."

"You’re too beautiful," he said with a reverence that made her knees wobble. "I should’ve warned the security team—I might have to gouge some eyes out tonight."

She laughed, cheeks burning. "That’s... dramatic."

"I’m being generous," he quipped, eyes never leaving her. "You walk into that ballroom, Ella, and people are going to forget their own names."

She rolled her eyes, but he could see the pleased flush on her cheeks, the way her lips twitched with a smile she couldn’t hide.

"Come here."

He crossed the space between them and slid an arm around her waist, tugging her gently into him. Her hands instinctively braced against his chest. The way he looked at her—it wasn’t just hunger or appreciation. It was worship. Like she was a miracle he didn’t know he deserved.

"You look like you stepped out of my favorite dream," he whispered, his fingers brushing a strand of hair off her cheek.

Ella’s heart stuttered. "You have dreams like this?"

"I do now."

She bit her lip to hide the grin forming there. "You’re laying it on thick."

"I’ve been waiting hours to see you, and you think I’m not going to lay it on thick?" His thumb traced the edge of her jaw. "I nearly bribed the stylist to rush."

She giggled, which only made his heart tumble deeper into dangerous territory.

Nicholas leaned in, brushing his nose lightly against hers. "You have no idea what you do to me."

"Then show me," she whispered before her nerves could talk her out of it.

He smiled—slow, tender, and devastating. "Gladly."

But instead of the fiery kiss she expected, he kissed her cheek. Then the other. Then the tip of her nose. Featherlight touches that melted her from the inside out.

"That’s for the dress. For the eyes. For existing."

She laughed, a flustered sound, and shoved his chest lightly. "You’re such a flirt."

"I’m a man deeply smitten with a woman who has no idea how powerful she is. I’m helpless."

Her breath caught. "Smitten?"

His smile softened, the playfulness giving way to something more vulnerable.

"I’m falling, Ella. More than I meant to. Faster than I should. But I don’t want to stop."

Her lips parted, eyes searching his. "Nicholas..."

He gently rested his forehead against hers. "But we’re not unpacking that right now. Because if I keep looking at you, I swear I’ll cancel the gala and keep you all to myself."

"You’re impossible," she said breathlessly, eyes glittering.

"Yet here you are," he murmured, brushing a kiss to her temple. "Still choosing to stand in front of me."

She smiled. "Then protect me tonight. Be my shield."

His arm tightened around her waist. "Always."

They stood there for a long moment, wrapped in each other. She adjusted his tie, brushing imaginary lint from his lapel, and he used the excuse to kiss her wrist when her hand lingered. She shivered.

"You’re going to make me forget how to walk in heels."

"Then I’ll carry you," he said, already plotting it.

Just then, the intercom buzzed. The driver was waiting.

Nicholas slipped his hand into hers, lacing their fingers together. "Let’s go, goddess."

She groaned, "You’re not calling me that all night, are you?"

"Try and stop me," he replied smugly. "You should hear what I call you in my head."

Ella blushed, but her smile said she didn’t mind one bit.

He walked her to the elevator, every step like a victory lap, his eyes never straying far from her. When the elevator doors opened, he kissed the back of her hand and whispered, "Prepare to be the most unforgettable thing in the room."

As the doors closed behind them, Nicholas couldn’t help but think—tonight wasn’t just about the gala or the people waiting to see him. It was about her. About showing the world that this woman—the breathtaking, shy, stubborn, glorious woman beside him—was someone no one would ever forget.

And more importantly...

She was his.