The balcony was beautiful in the way only obscene wealth could manage.
From where I sat, the beach stretched out in the distance, pale sand kissed by a dark, endless sea. The waves were too far away to hear clearly, but close enough that I could feel them—like a heartbeat I wasn't meant to forget. The island air was warm, heavy with salt and something floral I couldn't name.
I was strapped to a chair.
Not metaphorically. Literally.
Leather bands wrapped my wrists and ankles, firm enough that struggling would be useless. And yes, I had tried. Anyone who knew me even slightly would know that expecting me to sit still was laughably optimistic at best.
I wore a green dress—sparkling, expensive, and unapologetically dramatic. The fabric clung to me like it knew my body better than I did. Around my neck sat an emerald necklace, cool against my skin, the stones catching the red glow of the balcony lights. Someone—Dante—had clearly decided green was my color.
I hated that he was right.
