Chapter 28 What's Mine Is Untouchable

• I found her alone in the kitchen at three in the morning. Ivy. Wine glass in hand. Barefoot. Wearing a short black dress that screamed, “Look at me!”—but on her, it looked like a declaration of war. And that feline way of owning every inch of the wood beneath her feet, every shadow flickering from the open fridge—the unspoken message was clear: “This is my territory. I arrived first. You’re nothing but an accident.”
• “Can’t sleep?” she asked without turning, her voice velvet-wrapped in steel.
• “Not when snakes slither so close to the flame.”