The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of freshly bloomed roses from the estate’s garden. Amelia stood by the balcony of her guest room, staring out at the sprawling green lawns. She barely got any sleep last night—Andrew’s words, his touch, the way he had kissed her and walked away, it all played on a loop in her mind.
She should have packed her bags and left. That would have been the sane thing to do. But something in her refused to walk away.
A knock on her door pulled her from her thoughts. Taking a deep breath, she composed herself before opening it.
Andrew stood there, dressed in a black button-down and charcoal slacks, looking effortlessly put together. His presence still had that overwhelming effect on her, but she forced herself to stay calm.
“Come with me,” he
