Rain drifted softly against the penthouse windows while Monaco glittered beyond the glass in blurred gold and silver. The city looked distant tonight. Muted somehow. Like the world had lowered its voice around them. Sienna sat cross-legged near the end of Luca’s sofa wearing one of his sweaters and editing photographs she’d already finished thirty minutes ago. Mostly because Luca kept looking at her in ways that made concentration impossible.
“You’ve opened the same image six times,” he observed quietly from the kitchen.
Sienna glanced up over the edge of her laptop.
“You’re distracting.”
“That sounds like a skill issue.”
“You’re staring again.”
Luca leaned one shoulder against the marble counter, sleeves rolled to his elbows, dark hair still slightly damp from the shower he’d taken
