Elena came back down the stairs slower than she needed to, the unused charger still in her hand even though Victoria had already taken it. The kitchen felt different in the late morning light—quieter, charged. Marcus stood exactly where she had left him, leaning against the island with his arms crossed, watching her the way he always did when they were alone: patient, certain, already deciding what would happen next.
She set the charger on the counter with a soft click. “She’s on a call. Sounded like it might run long.”
Marcus didn’t answer right away. He simply said, “Come here.”
Elena walked to him. The moment she was close enough he caught her by the hips and turned her so the edge of the island pressed into the small of her back. His hands slid under the hem of her sleep shirt, palm
