The sun poured in through the tall leaded windows, and light dappled the table, shining on the blue water glasses and casting prisms of delicate blue on the white plaster walls.

Morgan studied the patches of blue glazing the walls. She loved the color blue, particularly this cobalt-blue glass one found on the Amalfi coast, and could imagine beautiful jewelry made from the same blue glass, round beads and square knots mixed with gold and shells and bits of wood and other things that caught her fancy.

Her fingers suddenly itched to pick up a pencil and sketch some designs, not the extravagant gold cuffs and collars from her Amalfi collection, but something lighter, simpler. These pieces would be more affordable, perhaps a little bit of a splurge for younger girls, but within reach if they’d saved their pennies. Morgan could imagine the trendy jet-setters buying up strands of different colors and textures and pairing them with easy bracelets, perfect to wear to dinner, or out shopping on a weekend, or on a beach in Greece.

“What are you thinking about?” Drakon asked from the doorway.

Startled, she gazed blankly at him, having forgotten for a moment where she was. “Jewelry,” she said, feeling as if she’d been caught doing something naughty. “Why?”

“You were smiling a little … as if you were daydreaming.”

“I suppose I was. It helps me to imagine designing things. Makes the loss of my company less painful.”

“You’ll have another store again.”

“It’d be fiscally irresponsible. My last collection nearly bankrupted me.”

One of the kitchen staff appeared with an espresso for Drakon and handed it to him. He nodded toward the table. “May I join you?”

“Of course you may, but I was just about to leave,” she said.

“Then don’t let me keep you,” he answered.

His voice didn’t change—it remained deep, smooth, even—but she saw something in his face, a shadow in his eyes, and she suddenly felt vile. Here he was, helping her, supporting her, extending himself emotionally and financially, and she couldn’t even be bothered to sit with him while he had breakfast?

“But if you don’t mind my company,” she added quickly, “I’ll have another coffee and stay.”

There was another flicker in his eyes, this one harder to read, and after sitting down across from her, he rang the bell and ordered another coffee for her, along with his breakfast.

They talked about trivial things over breakfast like the weather and movies and books they’d read lately. Morgan was grateful their talk was light and impersonal. She was finding it hard to concentrate in the first place, never mind carry on a conversation. Drakon was so beautiful this morning with his dark hair still slightly damp from his shower and his jaw freshly shaven. The morning light gilded him, with the sun playing across his strong, handsome features, illuminating his broad brow, his straight Greek nose, his firm full mouth.

It was impossible to believe this gorgeous, gorgeous man had been her husband. She was mad to leave him. But then, living with him had made her insane.