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Steam rose from the bread in spiraling tendrils that carried the aroma of wheat and wood fire. The prosciutto's edges curled in the cool air, its fat marbling translucent against the deep rose of the meat, promising a silky melting on the tongue.

Amber honey pooled around the cheese, capturing the essence of wildflowers that had bloomed in these mountains months ago, preserving summer's sweetness against the advancing winter.

"This is too much," I murmured, eyeing the spread.

"Not nearly enough," he countered, echoing his earlier words but with a different meaning entirely.

He prepared a plate for me, selecting morsels with a connoisseur's eye. When he handed it to me, our fingers brushed, and I nearly dropped it, startled by the electric current that passed between us.

"Careful," he warned, steadying my hand. "That's a two-hundred-year-old plate."

I rolled my eyes. "Of course it is."

We ate in companionable silence for a few minutes, the food so exquisite it demanded our full attention. The wild boar terrine was rich and gamey, the fat melting on my tongue. The cheese was sharp and nutty, perfectly complemented by the floral sweetness of the honey. Each bite was a revelation.

"God, this is amazing," I said, breaking the silence. "Did your 'friend' prepare this too?"

Sebastian's mouth curved in that half smile that never failed to make my stomach flip. "In a manner of speaking. The chef at his restaurant did."

"Let me guess, Michelin-starred?" I tried to sound unimpressed, but my voice betrayed me with a slight wobble.

"Three."

I nearly choked on my wine. "Three? Of course. Just…of course."

I laughed, the sound echoing across the rooftop. "You're impossible."

"So I've been told." His eyes crinkled at the corners, genuine amusement softening his usually hard features. "Usually by you."

"Well, someone has to keep you grounded," I said, then immediately flushed at my presumption.

“You're right. Someone does."

"At least I'm consistent." I busied myself with my wine, hiding behind the glass.

Sebastian reached for it and refilled our wineglasses. "One of your virtues."

"I wasn't aware you thought I had any virtues."

His eyes traveled over my face intently. "You have many. More than you know."

The sudden intensity made me look away, uncomfortable with the honesty in his expression.

"You don't need to flatter me," I murmured.

"Flatter?" He shook his head slowly. "That's not what this is."

"Then what is it?"

He considered me for a long moment. "Understanding."

Our eyes met across the table, and the air between us shifted. The energy crackling between us was palpable, a living thing that thickened the air and made each breath feel like drowning.

Sebastian set down his glass, eyes never leaving mine as he circled the table to stand beside me. One of his fingers brushed my cheek with unexpected tenderness.

That single point of contact was electric, his calloused fingertip dragging across my skin with deliberate slowness, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

My pulse pounded in my throat, and I knew he could see it, the rapid flutter that betrayed my body's response to his proximity.