LOGINEMILY GRAYSON'S The carnival grew livelier as the evening wore on. Music drifted through the crowded streets while laughter echoed from every direction. The scent of roasted nuts, grilled seafood, and sweet pastries filled the warm night air. Strings of golden lights hung above the narrow pathways, casting everything in a warm glow. Hand in hand, Alex and I wandered deeper into the festival. At least, that was the plan. The reality was that I kept getting distracted every twenty seconds."Emily." "What?" "You stopped walking again." I pointed excitedly toward a small stall displaying dozens of hand-painted ceramic pieces. "They're beautiful." Alex glanced at the display. Then at me. Ten minutes later, the shop owner was wrapping two boxes. I stared."Alex." "Hm?" "You bought them." "Yes." "I was just looking." "I know." "Looking doesn't mean buying." His expression remained completely serious. "It does when you look at something for more than ten second
EMILY GRAYSON'S The narrow streets were glowing beneath strings of golden lights, music drifting through the warm night air as locals and tourists filled the town square. A small summer carnival had taken over part of the waterfront. Food stalls lined the streets, and musicians played traditional music near the harbor. Children ran between colorful lights while couples wandered hand in hand through the crowd. The entire place buzzed with energy, and I loved it. "Alex, look." I pointed toward a game booth where someone was attempting—and failing—to win an oversized stuffed octopus. Alex glanced over, then back at me. "I am." I rolled my eyes. "You're impossible." "So I've heard." His hand settled against my lower back as we continued walking through the carnival together. The scent of grilled food drifted through the air. Laughter echoed around us. Somewhere nearby, a live band began playing. For once, nobody recognized Alex. Nobody cared who he was. Nobody interrupted us. We we
EMILY GRAYSON'S The rest of the afternoon passed far too quickly. The sun hung low over the water, painting everything in shades of gold and amber. The beach had grown quieter now, leaving behind only the gentle sound of waves and the occasional cry of distant seagulls. I stood near the shoreline, letting the cool water wash over my feet. The ocean stretched endlessly before me. Beautiful.m Peaceful. Infinite. For a moment, I simply stood there. Thinking. Not about the past. Not about Declan. Not about everything we'd survived. Just about now. About how strange it felt to finally be happy without constantly waiting for something to ruin it.A familiar pair of arms wrapped around my waist from behind. Alex. Of course. I smiled immediately. "You know," I said, leaning back against him, "you really need to stop sneaking up on me." His lips brushed my temple. "No." "Why?" "I like it." I laughed softly. "That's not a real answer." "It's the only answer I have." T
EMILY GRAYSON'S The next morning, I woke to the sound of laughter. Not loud laughter. Not the kind Lexi usually produced when she was about to cause problems. Just soft voices drifting up from downstairs. I stretched beneath the sheets and blinked toward the bright Santorini sunlight pouring through the windows. For a moment, I simply lay there, listening to the waves, feeling the warmth of the sun, enjoying the peace. Then I noticed something: the space beside me was empty. Again.I narrowed my eyes. "Suspicious."Alex had disappeared. Again. At this point, I was beginning to think the man naturally woke up three hours before the rest of humanity. After getting dressed, I headed downstairs. The moment I entered the kitchen, Teresa smiled."Good morning dear.""Morning." Paola was already eating breakfast. Sergio sat across from her, trying very hard not to look at her. Again. Poor man. At this point, everyone would know Sergio liked Paola because I knew he wanted to keep it a sec
EMILY GRAYSON'S The afternoon drifted by far too quickly. One moment we were wandering through the narrow streets of Santorini. The sun had begun its slow descent toward the horizon. The island seemed to transform as evening approached. The white buildings glowed golden beneath the fading sunlight. The sea shimmered like molten glass. Every restaurant and café was filled with people gathering to watch the famous sunset. Apparently, half the island had the exact same idea, including me. I stopped near a viewpoint overlooking the caldera. The view stretched endlessly before us: the cliffs, the sea, the whitewashed buildings cascading down the hillside. It looked unreal, like someone had painted it. My fingers tightened around my phone as I took another picture, and another, and another. Alex watched me with quiet amusement. "You have approximately seven hundred photos already." I gasped. "That's an exaggeration." "You took forty-three pictures of the same church." "It was a beautif
EMILY GRAYSON'SThe next morning, I woke slowly. Warm, golden sunlight spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting soft patterns across the white sheets and marble floors. For several seconds, I simply lay there, listening to the distant crash of waves against the cliffs below, the soft rustle of curtains dancing in the sea breeze, and the quiet stillness of the villa. It was peaceful. Not the fragile kind that vanished the moment you opened your eyes. Not the kind that came with conditions. Real peace. A smile touched my lips. Then I felt an arm tighten around my waist. I looked down.Alex. Still asleep. Or pretending to be. Honestly, with him, it was impossible to tell. His face looked relaxed against the pillow, dark hair slightly messy from sleep. One arm was wrapped securely around me, possessively, protectively. As though even unconscious, some part of him refused to let me wander too far away. The sight alone warmed my chest. Carefully, I reached up and brushed my f
ALEXANDER ANTONIO'S The city had never felt smaller, and Declon Ricci had never been harder to find. I stood in the center of an abandoned warehouse my men had raided less than an hour ago. Empty. Again. The air still reeked of gun oil and burnt cigarettes. Overturned crates littered the concrete
ALEXANDER ANTONIO'S “You don’t have to anymore.” Emily responded The words weren’t loud. They sounded final. Like a door quietly closing forever. “I can’t breathe around you,” she whispered. I physically flinched. Because I knew exactly what she meant before she even continued. “Every
EMILY GRAYSON'S Three days later, I asked for the discharge papers. The nurse standing by my bed hesitated, her expression tightening with concern. “Emily, you’re still very weak. You need more rest.” My voice came out soft. Calm. Too calm. “I’ll rest somewhere else.” She blinked at me, clearly u
EMILY GRAYSON'S After forcing Alex to leave two days ago, everything became a blur. The doctor and nurse surrounded me, trying to calm me down while my heart monitor screamed beside the bed. I barely remember their voices and barely remember the sedative they pushed into my IV. I only remember cry







