The afternoon sun slants through the villa’s tall windows, casting golden streaks across the marble floors. I step out of our room with Luca beside me, his hand resting lightly on the small of my back. It’s a gesture that says mine—but also I’ve got you. I need both.
The hallway smells like espresso and lemon polish, and somewhere downstairs, someone’s laughing too loud. I brace myself. The performance isn’t over.
We round the corner and enter the main salon, where the family has gathered like lions in repose—lazy but alert. Gio spots us first, sprawled across a velvet settee like he owns the place. His grin is instant and wicked.
“Well, well, look who finally emerged from the love cave,” he drawls, raising his espresso cup in mock salute. “Was it the sheets or the chandelier that took
