The ride from the Burnett estate to the villa was quiet.

Not awkward. Not tense. Just quiet in the way two people settle into something deeply known. Sophie rested her hand on Alexander’s thigh, her fingers tracing small, idle patterns over the fabric of his tuxedo pants. His hand occasionally shifted to cover hers, gently squeezing in affirmation.

Outside, the sky was velvet black, dusted with stars.

The road curved upward. Then leveled out.

The villa appeared — warm light glowing through arched windows, a structure of stone and wood tucked privately into the hillside. It overlooked a dark stretch of coastline, the sound of waves below barely audible from...