Sienna Rossi restores paintings for a living. She spends her days finding the truth under someone else's varnish.

Six months ago she joined Vocal — the app where strangers post voice notes in the dark and pretend, briefly, to be someone else. She called herself Klara. He called himself Dear Friend. Somewhere between his midnight recordings and her strong opinions about Vermeer, she started listening for his voice the way she used to listen for good news.

She's never met him. She doesn't know his name.

Her days belong to Julian Vance — her boss at The Vault, London's most secretive private conservation studio. Julian is brilliant, cold, exacting, and expensive. He rolls his sleeves to the elbow, notices everything, and wears a tie in exactly the wrong shade of charcoal. Sienna would rather restore an entire Caravaggio blindfolded than admit she's started noticing what he does with his hands.

Then Dear Friend describes a woman with a Klimt tattoo at her collarbone. Sienna has a Klimt tattoo at her collarbone.

And the painting on her workbench — the one Julian has entrusted to her, the one that shouldn't leave The Vault under any circumstances — isn't sitting right. She doesn't yet know why. She only knows that when she leans in with the loupe, the picture is telling her something the paperwork doesn't.

Two men. One voice. One painting that isn't behaving. And a Bond Street gallery where nothing, and no one, is quite what they appear to be.

A modern London romance about restoration, revelation, and the trouble with falling for someone you've never met.