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The bright Sicilian sun floods the room through the tall windows, the sheer linen curtains fluttering from the sea breeze.

I raise my arms above my head and stretch my whole body. I’ve slept surprisingly well—no dreaded throbbing headache from the wine and no leftover fatigue from sleeping in a bed that wasn’t mine.

For a night spent having sex with a refined and handsome Italian businessman, everything seems to have worked out well.

I smile to myself. Maybe I need to have one-night stands more often.

It’s time to erase the sour memories of the bad hookups from college. So long as the man knows how to handle business—and Rafael knewexactlyhow to handle business—it scratches a much-needed itch. Especially while on vacation.

My gaze pans the length of the large, all-white bedroom.

WhereisRafael, anyway?

We’d fallen asleep in bed together. At least that’s what I thought was happening as I drifted off and he stroked my hair.

I touch my hair and laugh at how disheveled it is. I didn’t even bother wrapping it up last night. The wine had me tipsy, and then I was so engrossed in the passion I shared with Rafael it was the last thing on my mind.

Thankfully, Jayla’s a hairstylist and can touch up the sew-in I had installed for this vacation to Sicily.

Pulling the sheet around my body like a toga, I slide off the bed to search for my clothes. If I remember correctly, my dress is probably out on the balcony…

A strained gasp sputters out of me.

I freeze in horror, my eyes widening at the messy surprise I find in the bed.

Blood.

Blood everywhere.

My blood.

Soaked through the bedsheets. Dying these perfect white, thousand-thread-count bedsheets a gruesome dark red.

“No!” I whisper, then I stomp my foot as panic spreads. “No, no, no! Not now. Not here.”

I should’ve known last night was too good to be true.

Itwouldbe my luck that my period randomly decided to show up.

This isn’t the first time it’s happened. Lincoln ranted many times over the years over my spontaneous periods and heavy bleeding spells. He didn’t understand my endometriosis and didn’t want to understand it—as far as he was concerned, he saw red stains and freaked out every damn time. Short of remaining in a diaper twenty-four seven, it was just a fact of my life that sometimes there would be an accident.

Over the years, I’d grown better at sensing when it was coming. I was in tune enough with my body to guess a premature period was on its way. But last night must’ve been different.

Sex with Rafael must’ve triggered it early.

I rush forward to rip the sheets off the bed and… do what exactly, I’m not even sure. Hide the evidence? Fess up to my accident? Attempt to clean it all up myself somehow?

The game plan’s nowhere near figured out when the door swings open and in strolls Rafael. He’s so casual and nonchalant in gray sweatpants and nothing else, his dark hair rumpled sexily, like he really did roll out of bed not long ago.

“I was ordering breakfast,” he says. “My staff will be bringing it up shortly.”

He crosses the room before he ever notices what I’m trying to hide. He stops abruptly once his gaze does fall on the bed and he sees all the red.

My hand comes up to touch my brow as a loud, long silence follows.

It feels like an eternity.

Me clutching one of the bedsheets to my body and cringing on the inside. Rafael at the foot of the bed surveying the mess I’ve made in my sleep.