The sunset over Florence painted the sea in shades of copper as her silhouette appeared behind the buoys—a capricious shadow against the evening sky. Amelie swam slowly, as if testing whether anyone would dare to disturb her solitude. Her black swimsuit with white trim accentuated every curve of her body—her narrow waist, rounded hips, and perfect back. Black as the night in Provence, with white trim, it looked as if it had been created specifically to drive men crazy. The G-string disappeared between her appetizing buttocks, and the lace bra barely contained her ample breasts, which sparkled with drops of water with every movement.

Water dripped from her dark brown hair, leaving wet trails on her tanned skin, and her hazel eyes looked through her salty eyelashes with a silent challenge. When the boat approached, she merely raised an eyebrow, not changing her pose — she balanced herself above the water with her hands.

"Are you lost, or did you just decide I needed saving?" Her voice sounded like a warm breeze mixed with mockery, her lips stretched into a smile, revealing even white teeth. She turned slightly, showing how the straps of her swimsuit dug into the skin of her back, leaving pinkish marks on her tan. "Although... if you like playing the hero so much, you can help me get to shore—my leg is cramping up." It was a lie, and she knew he understood that—but she enjoyed playing with his emotions much more than she enjoyed swimming.