Chapter 5

The salt air was thick, heavy with the promise of an approaching storm, clinging to my skin like a second layer of silk. We had escaped the clamor of the gala, the clinking of champagne flutes and the polite, hollow laughter of the elite, to find our sanctuary in the keeper’s quarters of the old lighthouse. It was a small, circular room high up on the cliff, dominated by a massive brass railing that offered a panoramic view of the churning Atlantic below. The sun was beginning its descent, bleeding oranges and purples across the horizon, casting long, dramatic shadows that stretched across the stone floor. He stood by the window, his back to me, silhouetted against the fiery sky. He looked like a statue carved from marble and authority, his shoulders broad beneath his tuxedo jacket, which he had discarded carelessly over a chair. The silence in the room was not empty; it was charged, vibrating with the electricity that had been building between us since I first walked into his study. I watched him through the glass, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. I knew he could feel my gaze. He always could. "Come