### The Next Morning: Croissants, Chaos, and Complications
Charlotte woke up to the smell of… what the hell was that? Lavender? Pine? Was someone burning artisanal wood?
Her eyelids fluttered open, her body deliciously sore in the best way possible. Sheets like clouds. Room dim and expensive. And then she remembered—
Oh. Right. She'd finally slept with the man who'd haunted her subconscious for a decade.
And, apparently, she'd slept like a baby afterward, because Alexander was already dressed. Sort of. He wore a pair of tailored pajama pants and a crisp white shirt that looked custom-made to be half-unbuttoned and sinful. His hair was still damp, combed back, and he had the audacity to be **pouring fresh coffee into a porcelain cup like a 6-star hotel barista**.
Charlotte blinked.
"How are you fully dressed and caffeinated?" she groaned, dragging the sheets over her chest.
