A summer storm broke at midnight. The rain lashed against the stone walls, and the power flickered and died, plunging the vineyard into darkness.

Elara found Julian in the library, trying to work by candlelight. The ledger was open, but he wasn't looking at it. He was staring at the window, the lightning illuminating the scars on his shoulder.

"I can't do this anymore, Elara," he said, his voice echoing in the shadows. "I can't keep pretending this is a contract. I can't keep pretending I don't want to wake up next to you every morning for the rest of my life."

Elara walked toward him, her heart thundering. "The contract says if we fall in love, we lose everything."

"Then let it burn," Julian rasped.

He pulled her into him, his mouth finding hers with a ferocity that spoke of months of restraint. This wasn't the "Alcove Kiss" from the gala; this was an admission of defeat. They collapsed onto the velvet sofa, the sound of the rain drowning out the world.

For one night, there was no Vane empire, no Vanderbilt, and no debt. There was only the heat of their skin and the truth they had both tried to outrun.

But as the sun rose, Elara woke to find Julian gone from the sofa. She walked to the window and saw a black car she didn't recognize idling at the end of the dirt drive.

Julian was standing by the gate, talking to a man in a gray suit. He handed the man a folder—the ledger.