She hesitated. Her small hands rose slowly, hovering in the air.
Leonardo looked down at her, eyes dark, unreadable. Then, without a word, he reached up—fingers brushing her cheek before catching a loose curl that had slipped from her veil. His knuckles grazed the soft skin under her ear, making her breath catch in her throat.
A tiny shiver ran down her spine.
She placed her hands tentatively against his chest—right over the steady beat of his heart. She could feel the firmness of the fabric under her palms, how warm he was beneath all that black.
"Closer," the photographer said quietly. "Mrs. Moretti—tilt your face up just a little more. Like you want to—"
His next words melted into the soft hush of the ocean wind.
Bella's eyes fluttered up, her lips barely parted. For a single moment, the world felt smaller: the sway of the cruise, the cries of distant gulls, the click of the camera all fell away.
