That evening, Luca called for her again.
This time, it wasn’t a corridor.
It was a private lounge.
Different from before.
Smaller.
More enclosed.
He was already there when she arrived.
Waiting.
That detail mattered.
“You’re punctual,” he said.
“I prefer not to be corrected.”
A faint shift in his expression.
Almost approval.
Almost warning.
He gestured toward the seat across from him.
She didn’t hesitate.
Sat.
Luca leaned back slightly.
“Tell me something,” he said.
Elize didn’t respond immediately.
Because that phrase had stopped being casual.
It was a tool.
“I’m listening,” she said.
“You adapt quickly,” Luca said.
“That’s not new.”
“No,” he agreed.
“But adaptation usually comes with compromise.”
A pause.
Elize held his gaze.
“I don’t compromise easily.”
“Tha
