Downstairs, the third floor was already alive—keyboards clacking in tempo, phones chiming like impatient metronomes, voices weaving through the air in hushed, efficient threads.
It felt like stepping onto the stage of a play everyone already knew by heart.
Luca sat at his desk pretending to work, the spreadsheet glowing, untouched, like it was judging him for even trying.
Georgia had dropped the morning tasks on his desk with her usual brisk confidence—client follow-ups, data entry, internal reviews.
He'd nodded, promised he'd handle it, and she'd already moved on.
Now the files sat open. And useless. Just like his focus.
"Earth to Luca."
He blinked back into reality.
Bella stood beside him, arms crossed, one eyebrow lifted just enough to make the question sting. "You've been hypnotized by that spreadsheet for five minutes. Either it's secretly brilliant, or you're miles away."
Luca managed a thin smile. "Just… thinking."
