The moon was high over the villa, its silver light spilling like liquid glass across the marble terrace. A soft breeze swirled through the cypress trees, carrying with it the scent of lavender and the faint murmur of waves in the distance. Italy had a way of making things feel dreamlike, suspended between the past and the possible.
Inside the villa, Amelia stood barefoot near the open balcony doors, wrapped in one of Enzo’s oversized shirts. Her heart was pounding — not from fear, but something deeper. Something restless. The night had been quiet between them, filled with looks instead of words, subtle touches instead of confessions. But her chest couldn’t hold it anymore.
She was in love with him.
And no matter how broken, how dangerous, how difficult he was… that love had grown into s
