LUTHER’S POV

The buttons refused to close properly. My hands weren’t shaking, but they weren’t steady either. Maybe it was because I hadn’t slept, or maybe because my thoughts wouldn’t stop circling her—the way she looked in that damn robe, like she didn’t belong in my world but somehow burned it down anyway.

The fabric creased under my fingers. I yanked the collar straight, jaw tight, when a knock came at the door.

“Come in,” I said, voice low.

The door opened slowly. ...