"The villa," I breathed the moment I stepped out of the car.
Alex closed the driver's door with a dull thud and came around to my side, stopping just short of touching me, waiting, as if bracing for whatever this place might unlock in me.
It was the same one. The same villa we had married in.
Back then, he had told me it belonged to a business partner who owed him a favor. Now, with the truth laid bare between us, I knew better. It had always been his.
"It was mine," he said quietly, confirming my suspicions. "I had to lie. Saying it belonged to a partner was the only way it made sense. After all, I was supposed to be nothing more than a software engineer." A pause. "And I've already bought the other villa, the one we were meant to settle in, before everything fell apart."
The place hadn't changed.
The stone façade rose before me, carrying that old-world charm, softened by age and sunlight the way only Dubrovnik's old buildings could. Tall arched windows lined the front of the villa, framed by dark wooden shutters worn smooth with age. Some were open, curtains shifting faintly inside, as if the house itself were breathing.
"I had the staff prepare the house," he said quietly at my side. "Everything's inside. Clothes. Whatever we need for the weekend."
My lips parted before I caught myself. I swallowed, the weight of the place pressing into my chest. "I thought I'd never see this place again."
He smiled. Not triumphant, not cruel. Just certain. I could feel his gaze settling on me, warm and unwavering. "I was going to bring you here," he said. "Even if you never remembered."
I turned just as his arm slid around my waist, firm and possessive, drawing me into his side like it was the most natural thing in the world. And with him simply dressed in his white shirt, the top buttons unbuttoned, his dark hair tousled against the wind, I couldn't help but feel like we were stepping back in time.
"Something tells me you always preferred it here," he murmured.
"It belonged to your partner," I said softly. "So I never brought it up." My voice wavered despite myself. "I thought you must've spent a fortune on the other villa. I didn't think it was my place to say anything else."
"Well then," he said, and before I could protest, his arm slid behind my knees and lifted me clean off the ground. I yelped, instinctively looping my arms around his neck.
"Alex—"
He only grinned, wide and unapologetic, as he carried us toward the door. Somehow, impossibly, he managed to unlock it one-handed, pressing his thumb to the scanner with practiced ease.
"My bride," he said, kicking the door open with his heel, laughter threaded with something feral. "Fucking finally."
"You're insane," I breathed, my forehead brushing his.
The scent of pinewood and sea salt hit me the moment we crossed the threshold, clean and familiar. The villa was silent, immaculate, clearly prepared, yet untouched in all the ways that mattered. The same arches. The same stone floors worn smooth by time. It felt like stepping into a memory that had been carefully preserved, waiting.
"What do you think?" he asked, still holding onto me. And it looked like he wasn't going to put me down or release me, anytime soon.
"It's beautiful," I said honestly, my gaze drifting through the foyer.
But he wasn't even looking at the house.
His eyes stayed on me. On the white dress I was still wearing, my scarf slipping loose at my shoulders, the braid in my hair coming undone, the flowers crushed and crooked. I must have looked like a mess.
And still, he looked at me the same way he always had. Like I was the only thing that mattered.
He leaned down and kissed me.
Not hard. Not rushed. Just his lips pressing to mine with a tenderness that stole the air from my lungs, as if he was afraid that I might disappear again if he didn't anchor me here. My thumb brushing his cheek, slow and tender, and when he pulled back, his forehead rested against mine.
"Do you have any idea," he murmured against my lips, "how beautiful you are?"
My throat tightened. I didn't trust myself to answer.
He kissed me again, deeper this time, like a promise was woven into the press of his mouth. Then he shifted his grip, his steps sure as he headed for the staircase, carrying me still as if I weighed nothing. I held on tighter to his shoulder, as he kissed me some more.
"You should see our bedroom," he murmured, his lips curving with something dark and mischievous all at once.
The hallway seemed to narrow as he carried me through it, stone walls echoing softly with each step until we reached the double doors at the end. He pushed them open without ceremony, as if this room had always been waiting for us.
My breath caught.
This was the same place where I had gotten dressed, that morning of our wedding. The first time. Where my hands had trembled as I smoothed the white fabric over my skin. Where I had stood at the window, watching Alex as he climbed up the pipes, making his way to me, naively believing that the world would be kind to us.
But the room had changed.
The window was gone, replaced by the wide glass doors opening onto a balcony. Stone balustrades curved outward, overlooking the garden below and the endless blue beyond it. The ocean stretching out like a living thing, waves crashing against the cliffs beneath, wild and untamed. The four-posted bed still faced the view, dark wood and pale linen framed by light and salt air on the other side of the room.
The moment his hold loosened, I slipped from his arms and crossed the room, drawn to the balcony without thinking.
I opened the doors and stepped outside, the wind immediately threading through my hair, tugging at my dress. I pulled my shawl tighter, a shiver rippling through me, though I couldn't tell if it was from the cold or the presence I felt moving toward me.
Alex.
My husband.
He came up behind me slowly, deliberately, his body close but not touching at first. Then his arms slid forward, bracing against the railing on either side of me, caging me in his strength and warmth. His chest pressed to my back, solid and undeniable.
"When I built this balcony," he said quietly, his voice low against the wind, "do you know what I had imagined?"
I swallowed. "What?" I breathed, tilting my head just enough to look back at him.
His nose brushed my neck. His breath ghosting over my skin as I felt him shifting my scarf aside, exposing my shoulder. His lips followed, devastatingly soft and lingering.
"I imagined bringing you here," he murmured, his breath a slow burn against my neck, "pinning you just like this while I have my way with you between the sky and sea until you forgot where the world ended, and I began."
The ocean roared below us, wild and endless, as if it was answering him.
And so did my heart, hard and unsteady.
Heat pooling low in my body when I turned to face him, meeting those green eyes, dark with intent, with something dangerously close to surrender.
"Then what are you waiting for?"
His gaze dropped to my mouth. One corner of his lips curled upward, not a smile but a promise. Slow, deliberate and utterly certain.