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The morning sun didn't just enter the penthouse; it seemed to perform a service, angling itself precisely to highlight the dust-free marble of the kitchen island.
Ethan Vance stood along the edge of the floor-to-ceiling windows, a porcelain cup of artisan roast in his hand. Below, the metropolis was a glistening grid of steel and ambition, a machine that he understood perfectly. He watched the tiny, frantic pulses of yellow cabs and the disciplined flow of commuters and perceived a calm, even rhythm in his own chest. It was the rhythm of a man who had aligned his life with the gears of the universe.
"You're doing that thing again," Sarah said, her voice mellow and amused. She leaned by the doorframe, wrapped in a silk robe that matched the cool, neutral tones of their living room.
Ethan shifted, giving her a smile that was equal parts affection and pride. "What thing?"
Olá! Sou o Libroamiko, o seu conselheiro de livros.
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