The argument started quietly. Which somehow made it worse. Sienna realized later that she would’ve preferred shouting immediately because at least shouting felt honest. The silence building between them across Luca’s penthouse felt far more dangerous. Rain pressed softly against the floor-to-ceiling windows while Monaco glittered below in blurred gold streaks. Somewhere behind them, jazz played quietly from hidden speakers neither of them were listening to anymore.
Luca stood near the kitchen island scrolling through something on his phone while Sienna sat cross-legged on the sofa pretending to edit photographs. Pretending being the opertaive word. Because she’d reread the same email six times without processing any of it.
“You’re doing it again,” she said finally.
Luca glanced up.
“Do
