The door opens and the room fills with noise—bags dropping, keys clattering, voices overlapping.
Cassian and I don’t move.
We’re still on the bed in the open-plan room, his arm around my waist, settled there like it’s been there all afternoon. Close enough that there’s no mistaking it.
Francesco stops short and laughs.
“Well then.”
Enzo’s gaze sweeps the room, slow and deliberate, landing on us last. Calm, focus and, interested.
“Looks like we missed something.”
Cassian hums quietly, unbothered. “You took your time.”
Francesco shakes his head, eyes flicking between the two of us. “So,” he says casually, “did he behave himself?”
I don’t even hesitate.
I tilt my head slightly and smirk.
“Does it look like he did?”
That earns reactions.
Francesco lets out a low laugh. Enzo’s brow
