Dawn broke over the Ligurian Sea in strokes of pale peach and rose, turning the calm Mediterranean horizon into an unbroken mirror of liquid gold. Isla awoke to the gentle, rhythmic rocking of the superyacht and the sensation of absolute security. She was lying on her stomach, buried beneath the charcoal silk duvet, with Nikolai's heavy, muscular arm draped possessively over her waist. His hand rested warm against her hip,…
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