Emma’s POV

The first tendrils of dawn, bruised purple and faint gold, crept through the vast glass walls of the penthouse, but for the first time, I didn't feel the need to escape their grandeur. I was curled against Adrian, tangled in a soft embrace that felt utterly, profoundly right. His arm was a secure weight around my waist, pulling me impossibly close, and my head rested on his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a comforting lullaby. My fingers were fisted in the soft fabric of his shirt, testament to a night spent clinging to him, not out of exhaustion, but out of choice, out of a profound sense of safety and belonging.