Serafina
The first thing I noticed was the light. Too bright, too sharp, sneaking through curtains I didn’t remember closing. The second thing was the pounding in my skull, merciless, like a marching band in steel boots.
The third was the smell of coffee. Strong, dark, expensive.
I groaned and rolled over, instantly aware that the sheets weren’t mine, the mattress wasn’t mine, and the view—floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the skyline—definitely wasn’t mine.
“Oh, hell,” I muttered.
“You’re awake,” Dante’s voice cut through the fog.
I jerked, clutching the sheets tighter, then froze as I looked down. I wasn’t naked. But I wasn’t in my dress either. I was wearing an oversized t-shirt that skimmed halfway down my thighs. I swallowed. “Who undressed me?”
“I did.”
My head sna
