Hours later, they lay tangled in the sheets of the master bedroom, the panoramic windows revealing snowflakes still dancing in the moonlight. The storm had intensified, transforming their weekend retreat into a true isolation—no chance of unexpected visitors or press intrusions.
"Hungry?" Alek asked, tracing patterns on Emma's bare shoulder.
"Starving." She stretched languidly. "You mentioned something about cooking skills?"
"Give me twenty minutes." He kissed her forehead before sliding from the bed, pulling on lounge pants.
Emma watched appreciatively as he moved around the room, struck by how comfortable this felt—as if they'd been doing this for years rather than a first weekend away together.
She eventually borrowed his discarded shirt and followed him to the kitchen, where he wa
