ELISE

I woke up to the sound of Sebastian's voice, low and urgent, speaking rapid Italian in the other room. The clock on the nightstand read 4:47 AM.

Something was wrong.

I pulled on one of his shirts and padded quietly toward his office. The door was cracked open, light spilling into the dark hallway. Through the gap, I could see him pacing, phone pressed to his ear, his free hand running through his hair in that way he did when he was stressed.

"Non posso aspettare," he said sharply. I ...