Grace POV

I blink awake, disoriented.

The documents I scattered last night are stacked neatly on the desk. A blanket drapes over my shoulders, soft and warm, smelling faintly of pine and smoke.

Ethan.

Warmth floods my chest before I can stop it. He was here. In my room. While I slept. The thought should unsettle me. Should make me angry.

Instead, it feels safe. Like being watched over instead of watched.

Stop. This is professional. Nothing ...