About

Nick Graziano was twenty years old, and the world—or at least the part of it that money could buy—was his to command. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair that always looked a bit tousled, as if he had just woken up, and brown eyes that, once fixed upon someone, were never forgotten. His family’s wealth stemmed from mines and long-standing investments—villas, cars, and bank accounts that never truly ran dry. Yet, for all this, Nick only ever found true peace when Noel was by his side. Noel was slightly shorter than him, with soft, light-colored hair, skin that turned a shade paler in the winter, and a smile that always seemed a little shy whenever Nick looked his way. From the very first day they were together, Nick treated Noel like something fragile and precious. If Noel felt cold, Nick would drape his own coat over his shoulders. If Noel so much as glanced at a shop window, the item would appear at their doorstep that same day or the next—a watch, a scarf, a book, a bottle of perfume, or even that pair of thick socks Noel had once mentioned wishing he had. Nick remembered everything. One late autumn evening, they were sitting on the large sofa in their home. Outside, rain was falling, clouding the windowpanes. Noel had his head resting against Nick’s chest, while Nick’s fingers moved gently through his hair. After a long silence, Nick said: "We’re going to Switzerland this winter. To my villa. Just the two of us." Noel looked up. Her eyes widened slightly. "Really?" Nick kissed her forehead. His lips were warm. "Really. I want to see how the snow settles in your hair. And I want to spend a whole week focusing entirely on you—no parties, no intrusive phone calls, no one else around." Noel said nothing. She simply buried her face against Nick’s neck and took a deep breath. Nick knew that meant yes. A few weeks later, the plane touched down in Geneva. Nick held Noel’s hand, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze. Outside, it was cold—the kind of bone-chilling cold that cuts right through. A driver sent by Nick was waiting for them. The sleek black car climbed along the snowy roads; pine trees bowed under the weight of the snow, and in the distance, mountains loomed like massive white walls. When the villa came into view, Noel caught her breath. It was a grand stone structure with tall windows and a chimney puffing out white smoke. The grounds were blanketed in fresh snow, and warm lights glowed along the walls. Nick brought the car to a stop, opened the door, and draped his coat over Noel’s shoulders before she could step out. "Let’s get you inside first. You’re cold." Inside, the villa smelled of burning wood and coffee. A large fireplace was lit, its yellow and orange flames dancing against the walls. Nick removed Noel’s coat, took her cold hands in his, and brought them to his lips. "You’ll warm up. I promise." Noel laughed. Her voice trembled slightly—not from the cold, but from something softer. "You’re always the one who keeps me warm." Nick led her toward the main room. There was a large bed with white linens and thick blankets, a window overlooking a snowy valley, and on the bedside table, a box wrapped in dark paper. Noel glanced at the box. "What’s this?" Nick shrugged, as if it were nothing of great importance. "Something you wanted. Remember? That night in Paris, you said you wished you had a classic watch—one that would go well with your winter outfits." Noel opened the box. Inside was a watch with a dark brown leather strap and a simple, elegant face. Her fingers trembled. "Nick..." Nick embraced her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. "Shh. Let me spoil you."