The morning light seeped gently through the heavy curtains, turning the bedroom into a canvas of muted gold and soft shadows. Anastasia stirred, her body sinking deeper into the warmth of the sheets before instinctively curling closer to Dante's chest. His arm was already draped around her waist, a firm, possessive anchor as though he had no intention of letting her move an inch away.
"Good morning," Dante muttered, his voice husky from sleep, the sound vibrating against her forehead as he leaned down to brush a kiss there. His lips were warm, lingering longer than necessary, and Anastasia's lips curved into a faint smile.
