The next morning, Kate woke up in pajamas, tucked under the blankets. She slowly opened her eyes and realized she was alone in the room. Stretching with a soft yawn, she turned her head and saw Bastien’s shirt—the one she had worn the night before.

She took it in her hands, pressed it to her nose, and breathed in his scent like a drug. Then she undressed, calmly and deliberately, and put on only Bastien’s shirt, which fell over her bare body like a short dress.

Meanwhile, Bastien was in front of his laptop, speaking to Lucca on a video call.

—Sir, I sent the photos. It was a success. They didn’t expect our response. We only regret that Fabio’s son got away.

—He was there too? —Bastien asked, frowning.

—Yes, sir. Our snipers eliminated more than sixty percent of the intruders. Our men handled the rest. Fabio’s son was in the rear, so he saw the ambush. We followed your orders—we burned the bodies, leaving only hands and heads to send to Fabio as a warning. But I’m waiting for your next