EMBER'S POV
The breakfast terrace has been transformed into a holiday explosion that looks like Santa's workshop threw up on a five-star resort.
Christmas decorations drip from every available surface—garlands wrapped around railings, oversized ornaments dangling from trees, some kind of artificial snow machine creating a gentle flurry that's already collecting in people's hair.
A cheerful activities coordinator bounces around with a clipboard, sorting guests into teams for what she keeps calling "fun holiday bonding exercises."
I want to murder her.
Knox's hand is at the small of my back as we navigate the crowd, but it feels different than this morning.
Possessive rather than affectionate. Strategic rather than wanting. Every part of him has shifted back into alpha mode, and I can
