Chapter 3

The world outside her workshop had lost meaning weeks ago. Gie had been holed up in her studio, lost in the rhythmic process of creation—melting gold, shaping metal, carving designs, setting stones. It was an endless cycle of precision and passion, one that left little room for distractions.

So when Alina barged in one evening, hands on her hips, eyes alight with irritation, Gie barely glanced up from the magnifying loupe she was using to inspect the engraving on a platinum band.

"Gie," Alina sighed dramatically. "I swear to God, I will physically remove you from this place if I have to."

"That sounds violent," Gie muttered, adjusting the angle of the light to better inspect the filigree work.

"Violence is the only language you understand." Alina marched forward and snatched the loupe from her sister's hand. "No arguments. We're going out. Get dressed."

Gie blinked up at her, unamused. "I'm busy."

"You live in here," Alina groaned, gesturing around the studio like it was a crime scene. "Look at you! Have you even seen the sun this week?"

Gie glanced toward the tall windows at the back of the studio. The sky was dark. "Technically, it's night now, so your argument is invalid."

Alina pinched the bridge of her nose. "You are impossible."

Gie smirked. "And yet, here you are, still trying."

Alina narrowed her eyes. "Put on a dress. Something nice. I made a reservation at Amalfi's."

Gie stilled. That was expensive. Not that either of them lacked the means to afford a dinner at one of the city's finest restaurants, but the fact that Alina had gone through the trouble of making a reservation meant she was serious about dragging Gie out.

Sensing her hesitation, Alina softened. "Come on, Gie. Just for one night. No gemstones, no commissions, no emails from billionaires. Just food, wine, and your favorite sister."

Gie exhaled slowly, giving her a long look. Then, reluctantly, she muttered, "Fine. But you're paying."

Alina grinned. "Deal."

The restaurant was as extravagant as expected—gold chandeliers, white linen tablecloths, soft jazz humming in the background. The kind of place where waiters glided across the floor like ghosts, refilling wine glasses with silent efficiency.

Gie had dressed for the occasion, though she had grumbled about it the entire way. A sleek black dress hugged her frame, her curls cascading down her shoulders in a way that had more than a few eyes lingering on her as they walked to their table.

Alina, as always, looked effortlessly radiant in an emerald-green number that complemented her rich brown skin. She took her seat across from Gie, swirling her wine glass with a satisfied sigh.

"See?" she said, taking a sip. "Civilization isn't so bad."

Gie stabbed a piece of burrata with her fork. "Debatable."

Alina rolled her eyes. "You are such a hermit."

"I'm an artist."

"You're obsessed."

Gie smirked. "That too."

They ate in relative peace for a few minutes, enjoying the richness of the food, the crispness of the wine. It was only when Alina set down her fork, her eyes twinkling with mischief, that Gie knew something annoying was about to happen.

"So," Alina drawled, "how's the new piece for Alexander Millers coming along?"

Gie's eyes flicked up to meet her sister's amused gaze. "It's fine."

Alina wiggled her brows. "Just fine? Come on, Gie. The man is a walking Greek god. You should be enjoying working for him."

Gie sighed. "I don't work for him. I work with him. He commissions, I create. That's all."

Alina huffed. "You are so boring. Do you even realize how insanely hot that man is?"

Gie rolled her eyes. "I've seen his pictures. I'm aware."

"Aware?" Alina gaped at her. "Gie, that man is the kind of beautiful that makes women ruin their lives. Dark blonde hair, sharp jawline, those gray eyes that look like they could see into your soul and make you beg for it. And the body—have you seen him in a suit? Or out of one?"

"Christ, Alina." Gie rubbed her temples. "Do you need a moment alone?"

Her sister cackled. "Oh, shut up. All I'm saying is, you should be getting in on that."

Gie gave her an unimpressed look. "I don't need a man, Alina."

"Maybe not, but you could at least enjoy one."

Gie leaned back, swirling her wine. "No one's ever interested me, and I doubt that's going to change now."

Alina raised a brow. "No one? Ever?"

Gie shrugged. "I tried with women, too. Nothing. Turns out, I just prefer my art."

Alina sighed dramatically. "You are the most beautiful, unattached woman I know, and yet you refuse to even entertain the idea of romance. How is that fair?"

"I'm happy with my life."

"You could be happier with a ridiculously attractive billionaire spoiling you rotten."

Gie snorted. "Alina, you change boys like the seasons. Forgive me if I don't take relationship advice from someone who cycles through men annually."

Alina grinned unapologetically. "I like variety. Nothing wrong with sampling the menu."

"Except you never finish the meal."

"Some meals are better as appetizers," Alina quipped.

Gie groaned. "You are impossible."

Alina smirked. "And yet, here you are, still listening."

Gie rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at her lips. "So what do you suggest? I throw myself at Alexander Millers's feet and beg to be his next conquest?"

Alina tapped her chin in mock thought. "Not beg. Maybe just... fall into his lap in a conveniently sexy way."

Gie gave her a look. "That is not happening."

Alina sighed. "Such wasted potential."

Gie finished the last sip of her wine, ignoring the lingering amusement in her sister's gaze.

Alexander Millers was nothing more than a client.

Nothing more.

And yet, as they left the restaurant, a single thought lingered in her mind—

If he wasn't just a client, what would that even look like?