Leila's POV
The study room was suffocating.
The polished oak table gleamed with contracts, binders, endless mock-ups of floral arrangements and branded napkins. Luca's managers tossed around phrases like "brand visibility" and "celebrity guest lists" until the words rattled in my skull like broken glass.
I'd been sitting for hours nodding politely, my temples aching, my stomach growling. At some point, I stopped pretending to listen. I just wanted air, coffee, and quiet.
"Excuse me," I murmured, pressing my palm to my temple. No one even looked up as I slipped out of the room. Not even Luca, who was deep in a low conversation with one of his attorneys.
The hallway outside was dimmer, calmer, the hush of the manor pressing like a velvet curtain. My heels clicked softly as I made my wa
