Chapter 51. I Want to Help

The first thing she felt was warmth.

A steady, quiet warmth, pressed close against her back, breathing slow and even.

Ezio’s arm lay heavy across her waist, his hand resting lightly on her stomach. For a long moment, she didn’t move. The room was still, washed in soft gold through the curtains.

She turned slightly—just enough to see his face.

He looked different in sleep. Softer. Younger, almost. The harshness that usually shadowed his eyes had eased, replaced by a calm she’d never seen before.

Her gaze traced the faint scar along his jaw, the dark lashes that brushed his skin. She lifted her hand—hesitant, almost afraid to break the quiet—and brushed her fingers against his temple, following the line of his cheek.

“Enjoying the view?” His voice startled her, low and rough with sleep.

Margherita froze, her fingers still grazing his skin. His eyes opened, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He caught her hand before she coul