Elena's POV
"You're staying late again."
Ruth paused at my desk on her way out, coat already half on, studying me with the particular fondness she reserved for moments when she wasn't actively worried about something else entirely. It was nearly eight, the floor emptied out around us, only a handful of desk lamps still burning against the darkening windows.
"Gala invoices," I said, gesturing vaguely at the binder still open in front of me, though the truth was closer to needing somewhere to sit with my own thoughts than any genuine urgency about seating charts. Damian's unfinished question from that afternoon still sat lodged behind my ribs, unresolved, and work felt easier to focus on than the ache of wondering what he'd almost asked.
"Don't stay too much longer." Ruth squeezed my sho
