Chapter 10

• Clara couldn’t sleep. She’d barely closed her eyes all night, even though the bed was like something out of a dream. The silk sheets were soft and warm against her skin, the mattress so plush it hugged her tired body. The fireplace crackled quietly in the corner, sending a cozy glow across the room. It was everything she’d wanted when she was shivering on that awful couch, cold and miserable. This should’ve been perfect—should’ve knocked her right out after the long, terrible day she’d had.
• But it wasn’t the bed keeping her awake. It was him. Dante.
• He was right there, just a couple feet away on the other side of the huge bed. He didn’t even have to do anything—just being there was enough. She could hear his breathing, slow and steady, like he didn’t have a worry in the world. She could feel the heat coming off him, warm and strong, sneaking across the space between them. It wasn’t like he was trying to bother her—he hadn’t moved, hadn’t reached out, hadn’t crossed that invisible line she’d drawn in her head. He stayed on his side, just like she’d told him to.