Maya's POV
Thursday came fast. I woke up at five forty and lay in the quiet apartment and ran the presentation in my head. The structure of it. Hargrove and the number first. The second narrative. The data is third. The ask at the end without apologizing for the question.
I heard Luca in the kitchen at six.
He'd stayed Tuesday and Wednesday both. The couch. No discussion about it after the first night, just the pattern establishing itself, the way patterns were established with him, quietly and then completely.
I came out and he already had coffee made.
"How do you feel," he said.
"Clear." I took the cup. "Ready."
"Good."
He didn't ask for more than that. Didn't offer last-minute adjustments or reassurances I hadn't asked for. Just handed me the coffee and stood at the counter and
