Vivienne stepped into the office with a sway that didn’t belong to innocence. The rain outside had left her hair damp, framing her face like ink-brushed lines. Today she wore an oversized cream dress cinched at the top with a careless knot, the fabric slipping along her frame like it wasn’t sure it wanted to stay on. Heavy boots grounded her in a way that said don’t mistake me for fragile.
She dropped into the chair across from him, folding one leg over the other with deliberate ease. Ethan remained behind his desk—a barrier he rarely used, but today felt necessary. Necessary because his own pulse had started racing before she’d even spoken.
“You look… different,” he said carefully, his voice dry as paper.
“Disappointed?” Her eyes were liquid mischief, reflecting the soft light spilling
