The morning following the spectacular fireworks display was bathed in a golden, idyllic glow. The air on the private resort island was crisp, carrying the faint, salty tang of the sea mixed with the sweet fragrance of the tropical flora.
Inside the sprawling, state-of-the-art kitchenette of their secluded villa, Solis and Noir moved in a surprisingly seamless rhythm. Noir, clad in a slightly oversized apron that made Solis's heart perform a rather pathetic, fluttery flip, was expertly managing a sizzling pan.
Solis, to his immense credit, was treating the task of slicing strawberries and whisking fresh cream with the same laser-focused intensity he usually reserved for hostile corporate takeovers. He had rolled up the sleeves of his crisp morning shirt, his silver-grey eyes narrowed in absolute concentration as he measured out the exact proportions Noir had dictated.
