It happened on a Thursday.
Not a Friday. Not a weekend. Not some charged, wine-soaked evening where the lighting was soft and everything felt like permission. It was a Thursday afternoon, and Sienna was running late, and Alessandro was standing in the lobby of the Sterling & Cross building with a folder of Henderson contracts he needed Marcus to sign off on.
She almost didn't see him.
She was halfway to the elevator, phone pressed between her shoulder and her ear, when she heard someone say her name. Not loud. Just her name. Quietly. Like he was testing whether the sound would reach her.
She turned.
Alessandro was near the entrance, wearing a dark coat over a black sweater, looking like he hadn't slept in days. There were shadows under his eyes that hadn't been there the last time she'd seen him — at the gallery, months ago, when she'd introduced him to Dante with a smile that had cost her more than she'd let on.
