The morning light streamed through the tall windows of the Milan hotel, soft and golden, falling across tangled sheets and bare skin. Ava stirred, her body aching in ways that had nothing to do with exhaustion and everything to do with him.

For one brief, dangerous moment, she allowed herself to lie still and feel it—the steady rise and fall of Ethan’s chest beneath her cheek, the warmth of his arm draped around her waist, the afterglow of everything they had shared.

Then reality came ...