The pale grey light of early dawn was fingering its way through the old shutters onto the bare boards of her room, illuminating the rich colors of the Persian rug and revealing the empty bed beside her. Tentatively she spread her fingers over the sheets. They were still warm. He hadn’t broken his word. She rose and eased open the stiff shutters. The morning was forming out of the early dawn darkness. The air was moist and fragrant and absolutely still. No gentle breeze playing, no movement of foliage, just a heavy, quiet, calm. She narrowed her eyes, assessingly. It felt like change was in the air. But what? Before Emily could identify the source of her unease the door swung open behind her. Alessandro entered, showered and dressed, looking like he’d just stepped out of Italian Vogue. She swallowed. Could she really have been held by this man all night? He was out of her league. She knew it, why didn’t he? She pulled the tie around her dressing gown more tightly. She hoped he’d keep his distance.
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