Later that evening the conservatory lights dimmed to a soft golden haze. Ethan had excused himself for a few minutes while Aria finished the last of her tea. When he returned he carried a small silver tray holding two crystal glasses of deep red wine and a single white rose in a slim vase.
He set the tray on the table and offered her his hand. “Come with me.”
She took it without question, letting him lead her to the center of the room where the orchids framed a clear space on the marble floor. He pulled her close again, one arm around her waist, the other hand clasping hers as though they were about to waltz. Soft music began to play from hidden speakers—something slow and instrumental, strings and piano weaving together like a secret.
They moved in gentle circles, bodies aligned, her c
