Sloane’s POV

“You came,” Elias said when he opened the door to Room 7.

I stood in the hallway in the same dress I had worn for the cocktail hour, pulse still hammering from the walk over. “You texted.”

He stepped aside. I walked in. The room was larger than mine, with a wide bed and a balcony that looked out over the dark water. He closed the door quietly and stayed near it, giving me space I wasn’t sure I wanted.

“I meant what I said on the terrace,” he spoke first. “I left because I thought you regretted it. I’ve spent eight years believing that.”

“I didn’t regret...