THE SMELL WAS what hit me first. Rich, decadent chocolate wafted over me as soon as I stepped through the tinted glass door. My shoulders dropped and I inhaled deeply.

“Wow,” I breathed.

Rome’s hand drifted over the small of my back, his other palm cradling the baby carrier strapped to his front. He grinned at me. “Good, right?”

“Mr. Blakely! Ms. Jordan!” a man exclaimed in slightly accented English, coming around a display case to greet us. “Welcome. We’ve been expecting you.”

“Thank you for opening for us, Jules.”

Jules beamed at us. “When we heard you were coming to visit, I was delighted to hear you wanted to stop by. And this must be little Cleo.” He smiled at the little sleeping bundle strapped to Rome’s chest, then winked at me. “My daughter just had her second. Being a grandfather has been the best gift of my life.”

“I’m sure your grandchildren appreciate all the sweet treats you’re able to give them as well,” I said, smiling as I shook his outstretched hand. “I know your chocolates have been keeping me going for months since Cleo was born.”

Jules laughed. “One of the great pleasures of being both a chocolatier and a grandfather. Now, come! Follow me.”

We did just that, stepping through a curtained opening into an intimate dining room. A small, round table had been set. Jules pulled out my chair while Rome sat across from me. While my fiancé gently unstrapped Cleo from the carrier, another worker wheeled over a bassinet for us to use.

That was one thing I hadn’t quite gotten used to since Rome and I had officially been together. Life was so much easier. It was his money, of course, but also his influence. It was the way people treated us, making sure every need was met and then some before we had the chance to realize we needed something.

I leaned over Cleo and touched he soft cheek, then smiled at Rome. “Thank you for this.”

“I’m just getting started,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes.

I leaned back when Jules appeared to put gold-rimmed plates in front of us. Then the other worker came back with a platter of tiny, intricate chocolates.

“From left to right, we have our classic ganache truffle. Next is a delicate hazelnut praline with arabica coffee notes. Beside that is, I believe, Mrs. Blakely’s favorite—”

“Caramel,” I said, and it was almost a moan.

“Caramel,” Jules confirmed with a smile. “Our specialty caramel with a layer of praline, enrobed in our finest dark chocolate.” He must have been able to tell my mouth was watering, because he motioned to the chocolates in front of us. “Please.”

I went straight for the caramel, bit into it, and let out an inelegant grunt.

Rome smiled at me and bit into the classic cocoa-covered ganache truffle. He reached across the small table to lay his hand over mine, and we enjoyed our chocolates in silence for a few moments.

“You know,” Rome said when he’d swallowed, “When you ate that truffle in my boardroom right after turning the screw on me to extract every penny you could from that contract—”

“Hey! I had no idea what was going on!”

He let out a laugh and squeezed my hand. “Right. I’m still not sure I believe you, Nikki, but you should know that that was the moment that I knew I couldn’t let you go. Red lipstick, flashing eyes, and the pure attitude of biting into that chocolate. It was all over from then on.”

A thrill went through me. “To be fair,” I hedged, “you’re the one who brought that bowl of chocolates into the room. You couldn’t expect me not to indulge.”

His thumb coasted over my knuckles, and his eyes softened. “Maybe I wanted you to.”

Jules brought out more trays of chocolate, along with delicious coffee to cut the richness. We tasted wild honey-flavored chocolate. He told us about the provenance of the cacao beans, about the process of making chocolate, about how many years it had taken him to perfect his praline recipe.

Cleo woke up fussing, and I took a break from chocolate to nurse her. Then we ate more chocolate, and left the shop with bags of specialty truffles, two perfect, glossy chocolate mousse cakes, and one fruit tart that I must have stared at longingly for a few seconds too long, because Jules added it to our bulging bags despite my protests.
We walked out into the cobbled Antwerp street, but I was surprised to see our driver had disappeared. Rome didn’t seem alarmed, so I gave him a sideways glance.

“What’s going on here?” I asked.

“Let’s walk this way,” he said.

Willing to play along, I ran my hand over Cleo’s downy head where it was nestled in the carrier against Rome’s chest—her favorite place to be—then fell into step beside him. We walked for a few minutes, admiring the architecture and the tree-lined streets, the copper statues and the wide stone boulevards, and finally turned down a side street.
We stopped in front of a door. Rome pressed a buzzer, and the latch clicked. He opened the door for me, his hand sliding down my spine as he guided me inside.

“Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see,” he said mysteriously.

Glancing over my shoulder, I frowned at him, but all Rome did was motion for me to walk up the narrow staircase that dominated the tiled lobby. Knowing I wouldn’t get anything out of him, I made my way up the steps. He guided me to the left, where light spilled out from one of the doorways.

My heart thumped as we approached. I was full of chocolate and happiness. How could this trip get any better? Two days ago, Rome had simply told me that he wanted to take me somewhere special, and we’d left the following day. When we landed in Belgium, I’d thought we were just here for a weekend getaway to visit his favorite chocolatier.

But now I knew there was more to this trip than I’d anticipated.

We turned the corner and stepped through the door—and I gasped.

Garment racks lined the far wall, filled with a froth of white lace and silk and tulle. Wedding dresses. Directly in front of me was a tri-fold mirror in front of a small round platform, with plush, velvet couches in a semi-circle around it.

And on the couches were my best friends. Penny was the first one to jump up, followed by Bonnie, Dani, and Layla. In a flutter of enthusiasm, they all hugged me as they cooed and cheered at our arrival.

“Finally!” Layla exclaimed. “We’ve gone through all the dresses and have a bet going for which one you’ll pick.”

“Dresses?” I said, pulling away from my hug with Bonnie.

Penny laughed and hooked her arm around Rome’s. “Yes, dresses! Mr. Romantic here wanted to hurry things along a bit.”

I looked at my future husband and arched a brow.

He looked not the least repentant. “You need a dress, Nikki.”

“Did you really just trick me into wedding dress shopping?”

“I flew you and your friends halfway around the world to come to this very salon so that Lina could find the perfect dress for you.”

“The perfect—” I inhaled sharply, then turned to see a short woman emerge from the side room. Her hair was blond and utterly straight, cut in a blunt bob that fell to her jaw.

She was dressed in all black clothing that had simple lines but obviously masterful construction. Her eyes were sharp and assessing as she took me in, then turned to Rome. “Thank you, Mr. Blakely. I’ll take it from here.”

“But—” I shook my head, turning to face Rome. “We haven’t even picked a venue! How can I choose a dress when I don’t know what kind of wedding we’re having.”

His smile was soft as he used a finger to tilt up my chin. When he pressed a kiss to my forehead, all the fight left me. Then he pulled away and said, “Pick the dress first, and we’ll have the wedding to match. Pick five dresses and marry me five times over. I don’t care, as long as I get to call you my wife.”

How could I fight with that? I shook my head, then smiled as my husband-to-be leaned over to press a kiss to my lips. Then he said his goodbyes and left me in the capable hands of Lina and my four best girlfriends.

Lina clapped her hands. “Good. We’ve got a lot to do. Let’s get started.”

The next three hours were a whirlwind. I tried on every dress Lina had arranged. I drank champagne that went straight to my head. I watched Penny and Bonnie shed a tear when I emerged in an over-the-top princess dress that was way too much for the kind of wedding I wanted.

…Or was it?

“I think you should take Rome up on that five weddings idea,” Layla said, lifting her champagne flute. “I can’t pick a winner.”

“Or one ceremony dress, one reception dress, and then something shorter for the dancing portion of the evening,” Dani suggested.

Lina nodded. “Very wise.”

“Wise?” I protested, laughing, but my eyes were already trailing over the dresses I’d tried on.

“I think she’s already picked which ones she wants,” Penny said, “but she’s too afraid to say it out loud.”

I bit my lip. Bonnie laughed, pointing her own glass at me. “She definitely has.”

“Let me try the strapless one on again,” I said to Lina.

The short woman’s lips curled into a tiny, pleased smile. “Excellent choice.”

Once I had the dress on, I stepped up onto the round dais and looked at myself in the trifold mirror. The dress was simple and elegant, with a removable organza shawl that added a touch of refinement. Delicate buttons lined the back of the dress, and the smallest train swept on the ground behind me.

I turned to my girlfriends and said, “This one for the ceremony.”

Penny was crying. She nodded vigorously. “Yes!”

For the reception, I chose a figure-hugging gown with a deep plunge and ivory lace. It was a touch retro, with dramatic bell sleeves and clean lines. I loved it.
And then I decided I couldn’t live without a short, fringed dress with a high neckline and the type of flounce that was made for dancing.

It was ridiculously over-the-top. It was too much. But later, when I was giddy and full of champagne and I blurted out to Rome that he was in fact buying me three wedding dresses, his lips curled into a satisfied smile.

“Good,” he said, and all his love and attention and care was wrapped up in that single word. Then, with his fingers tangled in mine, he led me through to the bedroom of our lavish hotel suite, laid me down on the downy comforter, and reminded me of a few of the reasons I loved him quite as much as I did. Then I did the same for him.

It was a great trip.

Four months later, I got to wear all three dresses when we tied the knot. Lina surprised us with matching outfits for Cleo, who slept through the entire ceremony and most of the reception.

My favorite frock ended up being the short, flouncy number; that’s the dress Rome helped me take off at the end of the night—which, incidentally, he only did after he bent me over the side of the bed and showed me just how much he loved it when I called him “husband.”

It was the best day—and night—of my life. But the best part was that I knew things would only get better.