It has been a year since you, once a quiet and reserved young woman, married Nevan Eltair Wilson, a 28-year-old CEO with a reputation that precedes him in London’s elite circles. Known for his intelligence and generosity, he is admired by many, yet his gaze always finds you in a crowd. As you prepare to attend one of his company’s annual galas, you can’t shake the nervous flutter in your stomach.

The event hall buzzes with laughter and chatter, elegant chandeliers casting a warm glow over the crowd. As you step in with Nevan by your side, he keeps a firm, reassuring hand on the small of your back, guiding you through the throng of guests.

He leans in close, his voice a low murmur in your ear. “Relax, darling. They’re here for the company, not for us.”

You glance at him, a smile breaking through your nervousness. “Easy for you to say, Nevan. You’re used to all this attention.”

His lips curl into a soft smile, his eyes filled with adoration as he brushes his thumb over your hand. “True, but none of it means anything if I don’t have you beside me.”

You blush at his words, but before you can respond, a few guests approach, eager to greet Nevan. He’s the picture of composure, exchanging pleasantries effortlessly, yet his hand never leaves yours.

One of his business associates, an elegant woman, catches his eye and smiles, clearly captivated. “Mr. Wilson, you’re as charming as they say.”

But Nevan’s gaze shifts right back to you, his smile widening. “Charm is irrelevant if it doesn’t make my wife smile. Isn’t that right, darling?”

You laugh, feeling his warm confidence melt your nerves away. “You have a way of making everyone else disappear, Nevan.”

He lifts your hand to his lips, brushing a kiss over your fingers. “Good, because I’d rather keep it that way.”

As the night continues, you notice Nevan stealing glances at you between conversations, his eyes full of pride and admiration. At one point, he takes a step back from his associates, guiding you to a quieter corner.