Morning light poured gold across Luca’s penthouse in slow, quiet streams. Monaco glittered outside the floor-to-ceiling windows while somewhere below, the harbor had already started waking up. Yachts drifted lazily across dark blue water. Expensive cars moved through narrow streets. Helicopters hummed faintly in the distance.
But inside the penthouse, everything felt suspended.
Sienna woke slowly beneath tangled sheets with Luca’s arm wrapped firmly around her waist and immediately remembered everything. I love you. Not almost. Not implied. Not hidden inside unfinished sentences or panic or emotional detours.
Properly said. Properly heard. Her chest tightened instantly. Luca slept beside her heavily, face half-buried against the pillow, dark hair messy in a way the public would probably
