The next morning came with the soft hush of the Mediterranean breeze stirring the sheer curtains.
Ella stirred in the linen sheets, her skin still warm from sleep and the remnants of the night before. Nicholas wasn't in bed. She reached across the mattress and touched the faint indentation where his body had been, the sheets slightly cooler. Her heart gave a gentle tug—he had a habit of rising early. Sometimes it frustrated her. But more often than not, it just made her want to find him.
She slipped out of bed and padded barefoot across the sun-warmed tiles, the quiet sound of waves kissing the cliffside far below. The villa opened wide to the coast, its arched windows framing the sea like a painting. Every part of it felt like something stolen from a dream—terracotta walls, trailing vines, pale blue shutters yawning open into sunlight.
Ella found him out on the terrace.
