The phone’s ring cut through the kitchen like a sharp blade, loud and piercing in the quiet space. It was the kind of sound that didn’t just call it demanded. The vibration rattled against the countertop, right beside their half-undone clothes, where buttons hung loose and fabric clung damp against flushed skin.

Alessio’s arm stayed locked tight around Noa’s waist. He didn’t move. His thumb brushed over the bare skin there, slow, possessive, like the world outside didn’t ...