Mom’s trip stretched into two full weeks. The house became ours quiet, charged, dangerous.
I tried to keep my distance after that night on the balcony, but Vincent made it impossible. He was always there. Kind. Present. Looking at me like I was the only thing that mattered. Every shared meal, every moment in the studio, every casual touch while we worked made the crush burn hotter.
On Friday evening, we opened a bottle of red wine on the terrace. The sun had set, and the bay glittered under the moonlight. We’d finished my project earlier that day. I felt relaxed. Loose. Maybe a little too loose.
Vincent poured me another glass. His eyes lingered on me longer than usual.
“Olise,” he said, voice low and rough. “I need to tell you something.”
My heart slammed against my ribs. I set my gl
