When Love Finds Its Way Back (Cassienne and Dreston) novel Chapter 165

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Chuple One Hundred And Sixty–Five This view

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Chapter One Hundred And Sixty–Five: This View.

After the terrace drinks faded into the soft purple of sunset, Garry clapped his hands twice. It was light, but enough to draw every eye.

“Before anyone gets too comfortable with the Cabernet and starts hugging barrels,” he said with a grin, let’s get you all settled into your rooms.”

A young estate manager stepped forward from the shadow of the manor doorway. Matteo, a man in his mid–thirties, wearing a crisp white shirt, his eyes were warm brown. He has the easy confidence of someone who had grown up among these vines.

“I’ll show everyone to their suites,” he said, voice calm and welcoming.

The heavy wooden doors of the manor swung open wider.

Inside, the air changed with the faint scent of polished oak, old stone, and dried lavender wrapped around them like a memory. The stone floors gleamed underfoot, worn smooth by generations.

High wooden ceilings exposed dark beams that looked older than the country itself. A massive wrought- iron chandelier hung above the grand staircase, its crystals catching the last of the dying light.

“This house has stood since my grandfather’s time,” Garry said as they crossed the threshold. “We renovated the plumbing and wiring, but we kept the bones. The soul. That’s what matters.”

They climbed the wide staircase together, footsteps muffled on the thick runner. Along the upstairs hallway, black–and–white photographs lined the walls–harvests from decades past: men and women in wide hats holding overflowing baskets, children riding on shoulders, barrels being rolled into cellars.

Matteo stopped at the double doors at the far end of the corridor.

“The master suite,” he said simply, turning the brass handles.

Dreston and Cassienne stepped inside first. The room stole the breath from Cassienne’s lungs.

Floor–to–ceiling windows framed an unbroken view of the vineyard rolling down the slope toward the distant lake, vines stretching like dark green rivers under the fading sky.

A curved private balcony extended outward with two deep–cushioned wicker chairs and a small round table already set with a chilled bottle of sparkling water and two glasses.

The bed was enormous, draped in crisp white linen, piled with soft pillows, and positioned to face the view. A stone fireplace stood opposite, unlit but promising warmth for cooler nights. Fresh white roses sat in a vase on the nightstand.

Cassienne walked slowly toward the window, bare feet silent on the cool hardwood. She pressed her palm lightly to the glass.

“This view…” she whispered.

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Met One Hundred And Sixty–Five This View

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Dreston came up behind her. His hands settled gently on her waist, not pulling, just resting there so she could feel him close.

“Worth the trip?” he asked quietly.

She leaned back just enough for her shoulders to touch his chest.

“More than worth it.”

He pressed a soft kiss to the crown of her head. But Matteo continued down the hall, leading the others.

Aurora’s suite was next. Soft sage–green walls, French doors opening to a small balcony overlooking the lake. When she stepped inside and saw the bathroom. It was a deep marble tub, oversized mirrors framed in brushed gold, and a rainfall shower. She let out a small, involuntary gasp.

Garry leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed.

“Comfortable?”

She turned, eyes wide. “It feels like I shouldn’t touch anything.”

He let out a slow, genuine smile. “Touch everything, Aurora. That’s what it’s here for.”

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