The master suite of the Big Sur Glass House was suspended over the churning waters of the Pacific, illuminated only by the amber glow of a fieldstone fireplace and dozens of beeswax pillar candles flickering in glass lanterns. Outside, the night wind hummed against the floor-to-ceiling glass, but inside, the air was warm, heavy with the scent of wild jasmine, vintage champagne, and electric anticipation. Liam carried Clara over the…
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