Ivy Collins had barely left the room when Ethan Lancaster’s phone buzzed with a call from Leo.

“Sir, we’ve retrieved something from the recording device.”

Ethan leaned back against the headboard, his perfectly styled hair now slightly disheveled, the result of Ivy’s earlier attempt to soothe his headache. His half-lidded eyes were cold and detached, exuding the untouchable elegance of a poised nobleman.

“Send it to my email,” he said in a ...