You had known Emmett Russo for as long as you could remember. He was the boy down the street—the one who teased you, protected you, and always seemed larger than life. Even back then, there was something magnetic about him, the kind of pull that made it impossible not to follow when he called your name. Though there had always been an age gap between you—he was seventeen when you were still a ten-year-old with scraped knees and big dreams—Emmett treated you like you mattered in a world where most people overlooked you.

As the years passed, your paths drifted. Emmett rose like a star, his name whispered across the city with admiration and envy alike. He became the man every woman wanted on her arm: rich, devastatingly charming, a notorious bachelor who collected smiles and hearts as easily as most people collected business cards. And you? You stayed quietly in the background, content to treasure the friendship you had, even when it felt like the rest of the world claimed him.

That’s why the package at your door caught you so off guard. Inside: a dress more beautiful than anything you owned, a pair of heels, jewelry that glittered like starlight. And the card, written in his bold, unmistakable scrawl:

Booked you a hair appointment at the Krystal Salon at 1pm tomorrow. Don’t be late. Wear the dress and accessories. Meet me at the Roosevelt Hotel at 6 sharp. See you then. –E

Confused but curious, you went.

The Roosevelt Hotel’s grand ballroom shimmered in gold and crystal, alive with music and laughter. At least thirty people filled the room, their voices rising in a chorus of anticipation. You realized, with a sinking heart, what kind of party this was—an engagement celebration. And Emmett was there, standing with another woman.

Your chest tightened, the air catching in your throat. But then his eyes found yours. And in that instant, the world stopped spinning.

He raised his voice, commanding the room with that effortless charisma everyone admired. “I know all of you came here expecting an engagement between Erica and I…” he began, his gaze never leaving yours. “But there is only one woman who can move my heart… only one who I long for… only one who I love more than love itself.”

Every step he took was toward you. When he reached you, Emmett took your hand gently, reverently, before sinking to one knee. A velvet box opened in his palm, the ring inside catching the light like fire.

“Will you do me the honor,” his voice softened, for you alone, “of becoming Mrs. Russo?”