chapter 6

Mark's POV

I stood at my study window, gazing out at Madrid's twinkling city lights. The scent of old leather and cigar smoke lingered, reminders of late nights spent strategizing with my associates. My mind wandered to Emily, my late wife. Her passing still felt like an open wound.

"Mark?" Sofia's soft voice interrupted my thoughts.

"Come in," I said, turning from the window.

The door creaked open, and Sofia entered, her eyes downcast. Her dark hair fell in loose waves down her back, framing her heart-shaped face.

"How're you?" I asked, regretting the question instantly. It sounded hollow.

"I'm good and adjusting well, I presume?" Sofia murmured, her voice barely audible.

I stared at her, recalling her clumsiness and innocence. During dinner, her awkwardness was palpable. She spilled wine, knocked over a glass, and apologized profusely.

"Yeah, you are," I replied, watching her.

"I've received threats from a rival and we'd be heading out anytime soon."

Sofia's face paled.