Morana took in his weariness, her heart squeezing in sympathy. “What did you want to be?” the question slipped out of her before she could stop herself. She waited as Dante looked up at her, his tie loose around his neck, hair disheveled. He laughed, the sound not reaching his dark eyes. “Truly?” Morana nodded, curious. “A sculptor.” Morana blinked in surprise at the answer. Dante saw and smiled, a genuine smile.
