Limone nestled against his chest, her gaze distant and unfocused, like she’d slipped into a momentary stupor.

Charles glanced down, catching only the smooth curve of her forehead. Damp strands of hair clung between them, darkening her clothes where water began to seep through, rendering the fabric almost translucent. His Adam's apple bobbed imperceptibly before he gently eased her away.

“The clothes are new,” he said, his voice low, measured, “never worn. ...