The private villa in the hills of Chianti was pure sanctuary.
On Saturday morning, the warm Tuscan sun spilled across the stone terrace where Jake and Catharine sat over a long, unhurried breakfast. The valley below was blanketed in a soft morning mist that slowly lifted over endless rows of green vineyards.
Catharine leaned back in her chair, holding a steaming cup of fresh espresso, her eyes tracing the rolling hills. She wore one of Jake's oversized white linen shirts, her hair pinned loosely at the back.
"I could definitely get used to waking up without three different news alerts flashing on my screen," she said, looking over at him with a soft smile.
Jake reached across the small iron table, taking her hand and lacing his fingers through hers. "No business allowed until Monday. That was the rule."
"And you're actually keeping it?" Catharine teased, raising an eyebrow. "I half expected you to sneak around trying coordinate with Alice."
