The morning chill woke her. Svetlana opened her eyes slowly, feeling the weight in her eyelids. For a few seconds, her mind drifted in a haze of confusion, disoriented by the dimness of the room and the faint woody scent clinging to the sheets. She looked up at the ceiling and her heart skipped a beat. She recognized it instantly. It was Dante’s room.

A shiver ran down her spine as she turned her head and saw him lying beside her, still asleep, his breathing deep and steady. His bare chest rose and fell with an irritating calm. Panic struck her like a blow. What had happened the night before? Her body tensed as a torrent of memories rushed in—disjointed fragments, conversations, the exhaustion that had finally worn her down… But when she looked down and saw her clothes intact, she exhaled in relief. Nothing had happened.

Moving carefully, she slipped out of bed, making sure not to make a sound. Her instincts screamed at her to run, to get away from this man and the gilded cage he kept