Zara emerged from the master suite.
She wore a heavy, floor-length silk robe in a deep, bruising crimson. Her dark hair was wet from the shower, combed back from her face.
She looked fresh, radiant, and entirely relaxed.
The heavy, protective sapphire of the Midnight Tear, which she had worn almost constantly since the Astor auction, was absent, resting safely in a velvet box on her vanity.
She walked straight to the kitchen island, bypassing the bagels entirely, and wrapped her arms around Ryan's waist from behind.
She pressed her cheek against his shoulder blade, letting out a soft, contented sigh.
"It's freezing," Zara mumbled against his sweater.
"I bought you a building with commercial-grade heating," Ryan reminded her, leaning back slightly to absorb her warmth.
"The building is fine," Zara countered, her hands sliding around to rest flat against his abdomen. "But the bed was cold without you."
