The soft glow of the green banker’s lamp on the corner of the mahogany desk was the only light burning in the dark house. It was 1:45 in the morning.
Sophia leaned forward, her dark curls pinned back loosely in a chaotic bun, her thumb flicking a mechanical pencil back and forth against the edge of a fresh set of architectural blueprints. Her eyes burned, her lower back ached, and she was wearing nothing but one of Mark’s soft, faded charcoal t-shirts that hung down to her mid-thigh, her bare legs tucked up under her on the oversized leather office chair.
She knew she was supposed to be in bed. They had a strict, standing agreement: no working past midnight on weekdays. But the design for the new sunroom addition had taken hold of her mind, and she had lost track of time.
The study door
