Ivy’s POV

I sat at the dining table poking the beef on my plate, my other hand tracing the rim of the cup of tea Ezra had left for me earlier. Now, it had gone cold.

Last night played over and over in my mind, every touch, every look, every breath between us. I could still feel the ghost of Lucien’s hands on my skin.

I pressed a hand against my chest, as if I could steady the chaos there.

What was wrong with me? Why did it still feel like my heart knew his rhythm better than my own?

“You ...