Blood and Roses
· Alessia DeLuca & Production Syndicate · 5 min read
Morning arrived over the Hudson Valley wrapped in a blanket of golden autumn mist. Isabella woke slowly, cocooned in the luxurious warmth of Alessandro’s master bed. The crisp black Egyptian cotton sheets smelled of cedarwood, masculine musk, and the lingering heat of their passionate night. For the first time in weeks, the crushing weight of grief and paranoia had lifted from her chest. Beside her, Alessandro’s side of the bed…
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