The bright morning spilled into the villa through its tall windows, casting a warm glow on the marble floors. Mara sat at the breakfast table, stirring her untouched coffee as Isla hovered near, whispering something about errands and laundry. But Mara’s attention wasn’t on Isla—it was on Damon.

He walked into the dining room, looking sharp in a fitted charcoal suit. His tie hung casually around his neck, and he adjusted his cuffs, revealing a flash of his watch. There was a ...