For a moment, the world around Marcia felt muted. The distant, rhythmic crash of the Barcelona waves, the murmur of tourists passing the restaurant's terrace, even the golden warmth of the setting sun—all of it blurred into the background as the man across from her leaned back in his chair with the leisurely ease of someone discussing the weather, not the orchestration of murder.
He regarded her with calm, analytical eyes—eyes the color of polished steel. She felt like a puzzle piece he already knew how to fit, even if she herself was still desperately trying to figure out the picture. He drummed a single finger on the table, smooth, rhythmic, patient, waiting for her to process his obscene offer.
"The answer to your problem is simple," he said, his voice low and silky, devoid of moral judgment. "Just break up with your boyfriend and get engaged to Luciano. Immediately."
