The villa was quiet, bathed in the golden hush of dusk. Italy had gifted them a corner of the world where everything outside seemed to blur, as if time slowed just for them. The soft hum of crickets rose from the gardens, and the balcony doors were wide open, letting the warm breeze stir the sheer curtains that fluttered like sighs in the silence.
Amelia stood by the open doorway, her eyes trained on the sea. The last rays of sun danced across her skin, painting her in shades of amber and rose. She looked like a poem, one Enzo had never dared to write until now. Something untouchable. But his. So deeply his it ached in his bones.
He stood behind her, quiet for a moment. Watching her. Absorbing her.
“You keep looking like that, and I’ll forget all the reasons I promised myself to go slow
