Franz had been in his office since morning.
The desk was covered in documents — quarterly reports, contract amendments, approval forms that needed his signature before filming started. He'd been working through them one stack at a time, but the pile refused to shrink. Every time he finished one batch, another appeared. Finn had brought the last set at four-thirty with an apologetic look and a reminder that the car was coming at seven.
He had two hours.
The window behind him showed the city going gold. His jacket was draped over the back of his chair. His sleeves were rolled up. His tie was loosened. He'd been reading the same paragraph about insurance liability for three minutes without absorbing a word.
A knock landed on the doorframe.
Arianne stood in the doorway. Dark dress, simple lines, her hair down around her shoulders. Her coat was draped over one arm. Her handbag hung from the other. Her eyes moved from him to the desk, then back.
"You're still working."
