"Just picked it up casually. It's out of print now."
Ethan Sullivan caught the subtle lilt of pleasure in Sophia Sullivan's voice. Her words ended with a soft upward inflection, like a feather brushing against his heart.
Sunlight streamed through the carved wooden windows, casting patterns across the courtyard. Two orange cats sprawled lazily on the stone pavement, rolling in the warmth. The crisp scent of winter plum blossoms lingered in the air, easing the tension in Ethan's shoulders.
In that brief moment of distraction, a hairline crack split the clay in his hands.
"Don't force it." Sophia's fingers lightly tapped the back of his hand. "Treat it like something alive. Follow its grain gently."
Her fingertips bore faint calluses, yet her touch was unexpectedly soft. Ethan's breath hitched, his hand frozen beneath hers.
From this angle, he could see her focused profile. Strands of hair fell across her forehead, her hands steady as stone. The calluses on her knuckles mirrored his own—the marks of a lifetime gripping a gun.
"Support the base," she reminded him.
Ethan snapped back to reality. What absurd thoughts had taken hold of him? This woman, cool as frost, couldn’t possibly have any connection to violence.
If she did, Liam Winston would have already—
"Done," Sophia announced.
Ethan looked down to find a simple clay form taking shape in his palms. Unconsciously, his lips curved into a tender smile.
"What a lovely scene."
Liam stood at the moon gate, arm entwined with Chloe Evans, his gaze dark as he watched the pair seated side by side.
"Are you sure that's Sophia?" His voice dripped with disbelief. The woman who always kept to herself was now doing pottery with the infamous, ruthless Ethan Sullivan?
Chloe tightened her grip on her handbag, forcing a smile as she approached. "You're so well-informed, sis. Mr. York's classes are notoriously hard to book..."
She paused deliberately. "But then again, with the 3 million you just received, the tuition must be nothing."
Sophia didn’t so much as blink, her fingers still adjusting the spinning wheel.
Ethan turned slightly. "Is this curve alright?"
"Perfect." Sophia traced the clay with her fingertips. "A shame, though."
"What is?"
"Art despises flaws." Ethan's voice turned icy. "Yet noisy intruders always ruin the mood."
Liam's face darkened instantly. His hand, frozen mid-air, slowly retracted, knuckles whitening.
Chloe tugged at his sleeve, her voice honeyed. "Mr. Sullivan, your craftsmanship is truly impressive... May we observe and learn?"
She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, flashing the perfect look of admiration.