The next morning arrived just as awkwardly as the last.
Sunlight filtered through the tall glass panels of Claude's villa, warming up the polished marble floors and bouncing off the chandeliers like the universe was mocking Mio with extra sparkle. She yawned, rolled over, and immediately bumped into—
Claude's stupidly firm back.
"You're still here," she mumbled into the pillow, pulling the blanket over her head.
"Good morning to you too," came his amused voice.
She sighed loudly. "Do you not have a company to run?"
"I do," he replied, too calmly for someone who clearly hadn't left the house for days.
"Then why are you still here?" She sat up, narrowing her eyes. "Don't tell me you've become a remote CEO."
Claude stretched, deliberately slow. "I prefer the term… visionary in exile."
"You're a jobless man in silk pajamas."
"I'm thinking deeply. Strategizing. Watching the market."
"You were watching reruns of a cooking show last night," Mio said flatly.
