The Greenwich Village townhouse was a private, historic brownstone nestled behind high wrought-iron gates on a quiet, tree-lined street. Unlike the sleek, brutal modernism of corporate offices, the townhouse was warm, luxurious, and classical—hardwood herringbone floors, dark mahogany paneling, towering bookcases, and massive stone fireplaces roaring with fragrant oak logs. Lorenzo carried Elena up the sweeping staircase into his private master suite. He set her down gently on the edge…
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