Max had gone to bed in lots of different places. Suites in the world’s most exclusive hotels. Yachts—though not the infamous one. Even, once, a hammock under the stars on Ibiza. But never had he felt the bone-deep contentment this place inspired. The windows were open, and the steady chanting of crickets outside was melding with the reassuring tick-tocking of a grandfather clock in the otherwise silent house. His body was pleasantly spent from the swimming and the ridiculous Dirty Dancing lifts, and the sheets were crisp and cool in the warm night. Dani was tucked into a guest bedroom down the
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