Breaking Mr. Cold (Giselle and Donovan) novel Chapter 634

Donovan drove his Rolls-Royce toward the bustling downtown district with Giselle seated beside him.

Half an hour later, the car pulled into the underground parking of a luxury mall filled with high-end designer brands.

After parking, he took her hand and guided her into a couture boutique.

Several impeccably dressed staff members rushed over at once, greeting Donovan with polished respect before the store manager personally led them into an inner showroom.

It was the domestic branch of an elite Frocian bridal brand. The space was wide and airy, decorated in a fresh, understated opulence, and scented with a light perfume that drifted through the air. It felt almost dreamlike.

"So you brought me here to try on wedding gowns?" Giselle glanced at the displays around her, dazzled by the sheer variety.

Before Donovan could answer, the manager smiled warmly. "Mrs. Kane, Mr. Kane placed an order with us two months ago. All of your gowns arrived yesterday on a direct flight from Froca. Feel free to try them on. If anything isn't perfect, we'll have the designers adjust it."

"Two months ago?" Giselle looked at Donovan in surprise. "Why didn't you tell me earlier? What if they don't fit? Wouldn't that be a waste?"

His hand slid along her slender waist. "I know every inch of your measurements."

"But I didn't even put on makeup today."

The manager leaned in with flattering enthusiasm. "Mrs. Kane, with a face like yours, bare skin alone is blindingly beautiful. You don't need makeup at all. And your figure is stunning. Come, let's try the first one."

Giselle had no choice but to enter the fitting room. Three attendants hovered around her, helping her into the first gown piece by piece.

She was almost 30, and this was the first time she had ever worn something so elegant and regal. The excitement made her heart flutter, yet she also felt strangely self-conscious.

Once she was fully dressed, she stepped out in heels. One assistant held the long train behind her while the other two steadied her on either side.

According to the attendant, each embroidered panel had taken more than 80 hours of labor, often through the night, giving the gown a classic, royal elegance.

Even without a personal fitting months earlier, the gown hugged her perfectly, tracing her curves in a way that felt almost sculpted.

Her graceful shoulders and neck, her luminous skin, the delicate line of her back, the narrow waist one could circle with a single hand—every part of her looked like a work of art.

Donovan stood with his arms crossed, his gaze openly devouring her. He had never imagined she could appear so noble, so sacred, so blindingly white and yet so impossibly sensual. She looked like a descending goddess, and for the first time in his life, he felt almost unworthy.

Before he realized it, he walked up behind her, slipped his arms around her waist, and bent forward to kiss her cheek while watching her through the mirror.

The attendants quickly lowered their heads or pretended to be busy with their phones.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Giselle scolded even as her heart raced. "Can you not go into heat in public? There are people here. And don't hold me so tight, you'll ruin the gown. You're insane…"