Sonia’s POV
Paris looked different in the morning.
Not just beautiful, alive, warm, humming with a softness that felt almost personal, as if the entire city had decided to welcome me with open arms. The air tasted like pastries and quiet magic, and from the window of our suite, I could see the rooftops stretching endlessly, edged with chimneys and bathed in peach-colored light.
I woke slowly, the sheets warm around me, the faintest breeze slipping through the slightly open window. For a moment, I didn’t move. I wanted to stay in the softness of waking, in the gentle knowledge that I was far from home, far from expectations, far from everything except him.
Alexander wasn’t in bed.
But I had expected that. He was too restless, too early-rising, too disciplined to stay asleep once mornin
