Meera’s POV
The sunlight was merciless.
It spilled through the wide windows of the villa bedroom, cutting across the pale sheets in golden stripes. I stirred slowly, my body deliciously sore, tangled in linen that still smelled faintly of him; spice, smoke, something darker I couldn’t quite name.
For a moment I just lay there, eyes half-shut, replaying last night. The chandeliers, the applause, the way my parents had smiled, truly smiled for the first time in weeks. Sofia’s shriek of delight when she spotted me. The champagne, the music, the crushing relief that he had not abandoned me to my doubts but instead unveiled something dazzling, something public, something meant to anchor me.
And then, afterward, here. In this bed, no cameras, no society columnists. Just his mouth, his hands,
