The first thing Aria noticed when she woke was the dull throb at the back of her head, a low, persistent ache that radiated outward but didn’t worsen when she sat up. Not a concussion—that much she could tell—but the inevitable reminder of where she’d hit her head. She groaned softly, pressing her fingers to her temples as her surroundings came into focus.
Her suite was bathed in soft morning light spilling through the curtains. The details of the room sharpened, and her disorientation faded, only for her eyes to land on the small nightstand beside her.
A glass of water sat there, clear and inviting. Next to it was a small pack of painkillers, and tucked neatly beside them, a note.
The handwriting was bold, elegant, and unmistakable: Sebastian.
Her stomach tightened as she reached for
