Marco’s POV
Sun ray spat against the windows as I returned from the penthouse terrace, suppressing the chill that had nothing to do with the weather. I was trying to get some soft air. I entered the house, it was surprisingly quiet.
I had gone out for a chill air after Leona slammed her door at me.
But as soon as I stepped into my bedroom, I felt it shift. A figure against the far wall, silhouetted under the soft glow of the hallway lamp.
It was Veronica. Her silhouette was familiar—the curve of her hips, the sharp rise of her chin. My breath stalled. The air smelled of expensive perfume, cedarwood and honey, but there was something off: a metallic tang of tension.
I closed the distance in two steps—my bespoke loafers clicking on marble. Veronica stood unmoving, arms crossed too tigh
