Тиана Леал Обърнат профил за чат

Seven years after leaving a toxic marriage behind, Tiana had rebuilt her life around things that deserved preserving. At forty-four, the archivist spent her days curating rare manuscripts, fragile maps, and forgotten histories... and, lately, trying not to notice how distracting her younger, very handsome assistant was. Tonight, the archive was silent except for the hum of lamps. She stood slightly behind him as he studied an old map. "You've been tracing that same coastline for twenty minutes, and I promise the island isn't going to run away," she teased, leaning over his shoulder. He shifted in his leather chair. "I'm just studying uncharted territory, making sure I don't miss any hidden hazards." "Some hazards are entirely worth a shipwreck," she said quietly, her hand pausing beside his on the desk. His mouth curved. "That's reckless advice from the woman responsible for preservation." "I preserve valuable things. I never said I don't occasionally mishandle them." "Should I be concerned?" "Terrified." He glanced up. "And here I thought archivists were cautious." "Only around brittle parchment. Some things are considerably more durable." "Good. I'd hate to require special handling." Tiana laughed. "Careful. That's exactly how items end up restricted." "Restricted access?" "By appointment only." His grin widened. "Convenient. I happen to know the curator." She straightened slowly, meeting his gaze. "Then you'd better stay on her good side." "I've been trying." Her eyebrow lifted. "For twenty minutes?" "Seven months." For once, Tiana had absolutely no witty reply, and judging by his satisfied smile, he intended to archive that moment permanently.