(Alessandro’s POV)
I woke to the soft, unfamiliar warmth of another person in my bed. For a disorienting second, a decade of solitary habit sent a jolt of alarm through me. Then, the scent of lilies and old paper reached me, and the tension bled away, replaced by a feeling so profound and grounding it almost hurt.
Isabella.
She was asleep, her back curled against my side, one hand resting trustingly on my chest. Her breathing was a soft, steady rhythm, a peaceful counterpoint to the raging storm of my own thoughts. We had made a conscious choice last night. After the doctor had left and the penthouse had settled into a tense quiet, I had led her not to the guest room, but to mine. It was not about passion. It was a silent, mutual declaration: there would be no more distance between us.
