The floor was quieter when Luca returned.
The steady hum of work had settled in—keyboards clacking, soft murmurs drifting between cubicles.
He stopped by Georgia's office first, knocking twice on the glass before pushing the door open.
Georgia looked up from her screen, glasses sliding slightly down the bridge of her nose. "That was fast."
"Bella did the hard part," Luca said, handing over the freshly printed file.
She accepted it with a nod, flipping through a few pages. "Good. I'll go through this before lunch. Make sure your part's clean—I don't want the board asking questions I can't answer."
Luca smirked. "My part's always clean."
Georgia arched a brow, unimpressed. "Flirt with the printer, not with your supervisor."
He laughed, backing toward the door. "Got it, boss."
"Luca," she called after him, her tone softening just slightly. "Good work this week."
He paused, caught off guard by the rare praise. "Thanks," he said quietly, before slipping out.
