The following morning came far too quickly.
Vincenzo emerged from the bathroom, a white towel slung low on his hips, steam curling off his bare skin. His wet hair clung to his forehead, and the scent of fresh cologne clung to the surrounding air.
He paused in his tracks when he saw her standing in the middle of the room, fully dressed for business. His brows lifted slightly in surprise.
"It's like a dream," he muttered, his voice raspy with amusement. “I expected you to still be crying, curled up somewhere in a corner; Not bad… You’re strong.” A dark chuckle rumbled from his throat.
Seraphina didn’t flinch. Her arms were folded across her chest, and her posture was steady. “Sir, I want to ask for something.”
“Oh?” he tilted his head slightly, reaching for a fresh shirt. “What is it?”
