The sun filtered gently through the gauzy curtains, casting soft golden lines across the bed where Amelia lay wide awake. She had barely slept. Her body was warm, curled into the tangled sheets Enzo had left behind just hours earlier—his scent still clinging to the fabric, musky and intoxicating, haunting and comforting all at once.
The air felt charged. Like something within her was shifting.
She blinked up at the ceiling, her hands resting on her stomach as if trying to hold herself together. But she wasn’t falling apart—not anymore. Last night had been... different. Not just because of how he touched her, not because of the way he had kissed her with the kind of desperation only a man who'd walked through fire could muster. It was the way he looked at her—like he saw her soul and was
