Three days had settled into a rhythm Mila hadn't expected to find comfortable.
Mornings meant coffee in Dante's office while he dressed for the day, his hands brushing her shoulders as he passed, his voice low and warm in the quiet hours before the rest of the house stirred.
Afternoons meant digging through encrypted files and security footage while he handled business across the city, her fingers flying across the keyboard as she traced patterns through shell companies and offshore accounts.
Evenings meant his hands on her skin, his mouth against her throat, his voice low and possessive in the dark, claiming her in ways that should have terrified her but didn't.
It shouldn't have felt normal this fast. But it did.
