Dante ran a hand along his jaw, feeling the tension coiled in every fiber of his body. He was in his study, architectural blueprints spread across the desk, trying—and failing—to focus on the task in front of him. The architect was deep in conversation with the engineer, both absorbed in technical details, while Fabio listened intently to the foreman’s explanations.
But then, a distant voice—sweet, melodic—drifted in through the slightly open window, brushing his ears like an irresistible whisper.
Svetlana.
Something inside him ignited the moment he recognized her, like a jolt of electricity racing down his spine.
Without thinking, he stood up and strode to the window, sweeping aside the heavy curtains in one motion. His gaze dropped to the garden.
And there she was.
Dancing.
Dante froze, fingers clenched on the windowsill, watching every movement with fierce intensity. The breeze played with her golden hair, tossing loose strands about as her body moved with hypnotic grace. She looke