Gianna had always known that Zane designed; hadn't they spent hours laughing over sketches even while naked on the bed, popping grapes into their mouths?
But she hadn't known he possessed a room as vast as this, a sanctuary dedicated to an art she thought he had abandoned to run a corporate empire.
Standing up slowly, acutely aware of his gaze tracking her every move, she began to navigate the space. She touched his tools, a small, nostalgic smile gracing her lips when she found a specific pencil, one inscribed with his initials.
It was the same one she had borrowed again and again, nursing a secret superstition that it held some sort of mojo, that it possessed the magic to draw the best designs.
Because it did. Zane was still the most gifted designer she had ever met, although she would never admit that to his face now; it would only serve to stroke his already towering ego.
