Alina’s POV

The morning light spilled through the curtains like liquid gold, brushing against my skin as though it wanted to wake me gently. I blinked, stretching out beneath the covers, and found Dante watching me.

That man.

My heart still tripped over itself every time I caught him looking at me like that—like I was something rare, something worth holding onto. His hair was a little messy, his jaw shadowed with stubble, his eyes carrying that mix of danger and devotion that made me weak in places I’d never admit out loud.

“You’re staring,” I whispered, my voice thick with sleep.

“Am I not allowed to?” he asked, his...