It was the second time in as many days that Alex awoke to a knock at her door. It sounded less angry but no less urgent, a regular rapping that might have been going on longer than she realized in her dream state.

“Coming,” she huffed, preparing herself to turn housekeeping away.

She pulled open the door unceremoniously to the sight of Danial, looking intense and exhausted as he stood in the hallway. For a moment, they only stared at each other, neither taking the initiative to speak.

“What are you doing here?” she finally asked, as much out of genuine disorientation as anything.

“You left,” he fished in his pocket, where he was carrying a small velvet jewelry box, not unlike the kind you’d keep an engagement ring in. “You left your necklace. In my cabin.”

“You’re… you’re here to give me my necklace?”

The two of them were inches apart, and she could feel the heat radiating from his body. He must have been sweltering in the Greek summer, with his featherweight cashmere polo tucked into his khakis. His black leather watch was secure on his wrist, ticking between them like a countdown to their next words. It only occurred to her then that she hadn’t engaged in her usual “pre-Danial prep,” hadn’t even showered since that morning. Her messy hair was wild around her face, the day’s makeup had mostly absorbed into her skin, and her outfit was barely more than pajamas. The connection between the blasting air conditioner and the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra only occurred to her then, and she adjusted her arms to better obscure her breasts.

“Can I come in?” he asked, his eyes focused on some point just over her shoulder.

Her eyes finally flitted up to meet him, and she was struck by the intensity of it. She could see the beads of sweat at his temples, the usual melancholy of his expression appearing almost vengeful while his breath came in heavy waves. It was almost too much to process, the vision of him in front of her after she’d finally come up for air from their last, horrible conversation.

“Can I come in?” he repeated, more an order than a question.

“I–”

Without a word, he walked so securely in her direction that she could only back away, allowing him into her room as he closed the door behind him.

“Do you have something to drink?” he asked, adjusting the watch on his wrist as she backed herself against the writing desk. He looked over at her, at the small patch of bare skin that had appeared above her shorts in her reclined position.

“Sorry,” she answered, quietly. “This isn’t the kind of hotel that does minibars.”

His eyes moved up to hers and rolled as he set her necklace down on a nightstand. “Oh, you’re so oppressed, Alex.”