Chapter 5

The cocktail hour was supposed to be in the main house. But I couldn't face the crowd—not after the pool cabana, not when I could still feel the ghost of his fingers inside me every time I moved. So I wandered. The estate’s lower level opened into a wine cellar they called the Grotto. I'd expected a few racks and barrels. What I found was a cathedral of stone and amber light. Raw fieldstone walls sweated cool moisture. Arched ceilings curved overhead, supported by massive oak beams. Dark wood wine racks stretched into the shadows, bottles glinting in the dim glow of iron sconces. And there he was. Standing alone in the far corner, half-hidden by a stone column, a bottle of red cradled in his hands. He'd changed into a charcoal linen shirt, sleeves rolled, the top buttons undone. A sliver of fairy light from the garden above caught the side of his face. He turned, and that slow smile spread across his mouth. "Couldn’t stay away, princess?" I crossed the stone floor and stopped inches from him. The air was cool, laced with cork and aged oak, but the heat off him swallowed it whole. He set the