Alex’s POV
The aroma waking me up at eight in the morning wasn't the standard, sterile scent of the villa’s professional catering. It was warm, savory, and distinctly rich—the smell of melted butter, seasoned eggs, and fresh herbs.
I rolled out of bed, threw on a charcoal-grey cashmere sweater and dark jeans, and followed my nose down to the rustic French kitchen.
Ruby was there. She was humming a soft, nameless tune, her vibrant ginger hair tied up in a loose, messy bun with a few stray curls framing her face. She wore a oversized white linen shirt over denim shorts, looking completely at home as she deftly flipped a classic French omelet in a copper skillet. Beside her, a stack of perfectly golden, fluffy pancakes sat warming, next to a bowl of fresh, macerated Riviera strawberrie
