The terrace was warm with early sunlight, the ocean stretching endlessly beyond the glass railing. White linen, polished cutlery, and a tray of fresh fruit waited on the table like an insult—beauty presented to someone who felt anything but free.
Lena approached with hesitation, every step heavy now that she knew she’d spent the night in Zayn Specter’s bed. She refused to think about how that made her feel—trapped, nervous… and something else she didn’t want to name.
Zayn was already seated.
Of course he was.
He looked painfully composed, wearing a light linen shirt rolled at the sleeves, dark hair tousled in a way that made her stomach tighten in irritation. His laptop was open beside him, his breakfast untouched.
His eyes lifted as she stepped closer.
And he watched her—slowly, del
