The faint light of dawn crept through the heavy velvet curtains, casting muted golden streaks across the opulent bedroom. Outside, snow continued its delicate descent, blanketing the world in an ethereal quiet. The fireplace was nothing but ash and embers, and the lingering chill of the early morning seeped into the air.
Amelia lay nestled against Ethan’s side, her bare shoulders peeking from beneath the silk sheets. Her dark hair, glossy and untamed, fanned out over his chest like spilled ink, contrasting against his pale skin. The scattered remnants of last night—clothes draped haphazardly over the furniture, a champagne glass knocked onto its side—painted a vivid picture of indulgence and recklessness.
Ethan was awake, his eyes fixed on the intricate patterns carved into the ceiling.
