Chapter 65

• The Monaco mansion breathed with the sea’s pulse. A salt-laced breeze slipped through a cracked window, curling around Hans’s sandalwood cologne and the whiskey still clinging to my skin from the yacht.
• The chandelier glittered like shattered stars, splashing golden light across the marble floor. My bare feet sank into a rug so plush it felt like a dream. Outside, the Mediterranean twilight bled violet and gold, waves whispering secrets against the cliffside gardens.
• My silk dress—red, bold, Hans’s gift—hugged my curves, the hem teasing my thighs, rustling as I paced. My pulse thrummed, not from the tears I’d spilled on the yacht, but from the fire in my chest. Adrian’s shadow loomed—his sneered “girl,” his cold commands. I was done being his maid, his pawn.