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"That was a wedding gift," Oliver insisted, his eyes twinkling. "This is a birthday gift. Please open it."
Under his intense gaze, illuminated by the flickering torchlight, I carefully opened the box. Inside lay a delicate gold anklet, a small 'R' charm dangling from its center.
"This is beautiful," I breathed, running my finger along the delicate chain.
Oliver's voice dropped an octave, sending a shiver down my spine. "I want you wearing that tonight and nothing else when I make love to you."
With trembling fingers, I removed the anklet from its velvet nest. Oliver rose and circled the table, kneeling at my feet to fasten the clasp around my ankle. His touch lingered, sending sparks of electricity through my body.
"It doesn't do you justice," he murmured, rising to his feet and cupping my chin. His kiss was hard and passionate, full of promise for the night ahead.
As we parted, breathless, I whispered, "Are we finished?"
A mysterious smile played on Oliver's lips. "Almost. I have another surprise."
On cue, the waiters reappeared. One cleared away our dishes while the other approached with a small silver platter, its contents hidden beneath a polished lid. He placed it before me with a flourish before retreating silently.
Curiosity piqued, I looked to Oliver. "What's this?"
His eyes never left my face as he instructed, "Lift the top."
Expecting a birthday cake, I was surprised to find an array of colorful macarons nestled on the platter. They were eerily familiar, reminiscent of those from The Diamond Square. My gaze snapped up to meet Oliver's, questions swirling in my mind.
“Are these from…?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
“But how did you get them down here?” I asked.
“Vlad carried them in his suitcase. My pastry chef made them special order for you.”
I wide smile broke on my face. “I don’t deserve you. You’re wonderful.
Choked with emotion, I leapt from my chair and raced around the table, throwing myself into Oliver's arms. He caught me effortlessly, pulling me close as I buried my face in his neck, my fingers threading through his hair.
"You're very deserving," Oliver murmured, his breath warm against my ear. "I wanted to make your first birthday as man and wife special, very special."
I pulled back slightly, my eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "You have," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. "I feel overwhelmed."
Oliver's hands cupped my face, his thumbs gently stroking my cheeks. "You shouldn't," he said softly, his eyes intense. "I plan to make you feel special for the rest of our lives."
A wave of contentment washed over me as I leaned into his touch. "I don't want this night to end," I confessed.
Oliver's eyes lit up. "It won't," he promised. "I have many other things planned."
Curiosity piqued, I couldn't help but ask, "Like what?"
Oliver chuckled, pressing a light kiss to my forehead. "Be patient, my love. Sit and have your dessert. We have to get ready."
"Ready?" I echoed, confusion coloring my tone. "For what?"
"My next surprise," he replied cryptically, guiding me back to my seat.
I shook my head, feeling exhilarated. "You don't need to give me anymore surprises. You've done enough."
Oliver's smile was both tender and determined. "Too late. I already have it planned. Finish up."
As I settled back into my chair, Oliver leaned back, sipping champagne from his flute. His eyes never left me, filled with amusement and adoration as I contemplated which macaron to try first.
