The villa was quiet.
Dinner had ended hours ago, and the others had retreated to their rooms, their laughter now only an echo down the stone halls. Outside, the moon spilled its silver light across the terrace, casting ripples over the still surface of the pool.
Sofia stood alone, brushing her damp hair with slow strokes. She wore lingerie—a deep garnet set trimmed with lace, sheer in places that left little to the imagination.
It clung to her curves like a whispered promise, a silk-and-satin admission of everything she couldn't say out loud. Her robe hung loosely off her shoulders, doing little to hide the fact that she had dressed not to seduce—but because she missed him.
No matter how tightly she tried to wrap her pride around it, she still wanted him. Even if he turned her away again. Even if he reminded her—once more—not to fall in love.
She hadn't heard the door open. But he was there.
