*Jacopo’s POV*

The next morning, I found Sophia in the back corner of the garden, seated on a white wrought-iron bench beneath an old tree. A thick novel was perched between her hands, and her dark curls spilled freely around her shoulders like a wild mane.

"Good morning," I greeted her with a nod.

"Good morning, Jacopo. Are you going somewhere?" she asked as she nodded to the bag in my left hand.

I took her hand and led her toward the front of ...