I had hoped—perhaps naively—that my regeneration abilities would handle the alcohol in my system. I’d lost count of how many glasses of wine I’d consumed. Despite that, I was sober enough to wave off Kenzo’s offer to carry me to my room. Determined, though unsteady, I navigated the stairs myself, focusing harder on each step than I’d like to admit. Once I closed the door and reached my bed, I thought, finally, I could rest.

But then, my gaze fell on the bedside table—and my phone. ...