Page 79 of A Sinful Gravity

"What?"

"The ice king smiles in meetings now." He raised an eyebrow. "Multiple people saw it—you smiled when Berkley talked about rising costs. Even when marketing mentioned budget overruns, you smiled."

I froze. Did I?

"Yes." Marco read my mind, nodding emphatically. "More than once. Your nickname's changed. Not 'ice king' anymore. Now it's Mr. Smile."

My mouth twitched. "They don't have enough work."

But the nickname didn't sound half bad. I smiled again. God, what was wrong with me?

Marco clicked his tongue.

"Okay, I get it." He leaned closer. "Things heating up on the home front?"

I wanted to deny it, but I knew my expression had already betrayed everything.

Marco clapped my shoulder. "Good. Treat her right. Not like before."

"I know. Go follow up on that South American project. Stop gossiping."

He glared at me, then left.

I stood by the window, looking out at the city. My reflection in the glass showed my mouth curved upward, smiling at nothing.

But I couldn't help it.

Because my head was full of images from these past few days—Luna and Laila playing together in the yard, sunlight streaming through the windows, falling across them both.

I'd been waiting six years for that picture.

Come to think of it, yesterday I heard Laila tell Luna she wanted to visit the Christmas village.

I turned back to my office and started working through today's files, planning to head home early to ask them about it. Luna didn't have a performance tonight either. She should be home early.

Usually, these files took all afternoon, but today I blazed through them. My pen barely stopped moving.

When my secretary came in with coffee, I told him to take the signed documents. He paused.

"Boss, do you have other plans tonight?"

"No." I didn't look up. "Push tonight's meetings if you can. If not, have Marco cover for me."

He took the files and nodded. "Okay."

I checked the time. Only four. But I couldn't sit still anymore.

I closed my laptop, grabbed my coat, and walked out of the office.

Not only was I not working late, but I was leaving two hours early.

Something that essentially didn't exist in my vocabulary. But today I couldn't stay another second.

I drove the low-key black Bentley, weaving through Washington's congested beltway traffic.

On the way home, I detoured to a pastry shop. Laila said she loved their cream puffs—Chloe had taken her there before. I also got the tiramisu Luna liked.

The car pulled into the garage. I grabbed the bags and headed toward the door.