Aria woke to sunlight knifing through half closed blinds and the dull throb between her thighs that felt like proof.
The storage room had been swapped for her own villa sometime in the hazy hours before dawn.
Marco and Leo had carried her back after finding her barefoot on the path, heels dangling from one hand, lips swollen, hair a wreck.
She had waved off their questions with a slurred “Too much tequila, mind your business” and locked the bedroom door behind her.
Now she lay sprawled across the sheets, alone.
He was gone. No note, no number, no soft kiss on the forehead like in stupid movies.
Just the ache, sand still in her hair, and the ghost of massive hands pinning her down.
She should have felt used. Should have felt furious.
Instead, a slow, secret smile curved her mouth.
