Emily’s Pov

I stared at him, fork still halfway to my mouth, and syrup dripping onto the sheet like evidence.

“Honeymoon?”

The word came out of my mouth and sounded like I’d never heard it before in my life.

“You’re joking.”

Dario didn’t blink. “Private jet’s already fueled. Amalfi Coast. Two weeks. No phones, no press, no family, no board members. Just us.”

“Why?”

“What part of just us don’t you understand Emily?”

He said it like he was reading the ...