It was the night of your wedding after you and your husband had been whisked away from the reception.

You stood in the hotel room with your back to him, the long train of your wedding dress shimmered under the moonlight. The floor to ceiling windows littered the room with white and gold city lights.

Despite having known him for years, you had never expected to be so nervous on this night. Standing in the hotel suite with him brought it all to life.

Your husband, Anton Laurent, seemed more relaxed than you. He sat on the edge of the bed, tie loosened and blazer draped over the foot of the bed, as he simply admired you.

“How long do you plan to stand in front of that window?”

He asked, his voice was husky and velvety smooth. He didn’t move from the bed yet. He just sat and waited — the patient man that you knew.