The second creak from the floorboards above was sharper, more deliberate than the first. It wasn't just the house settling; it was the sound of weight shifting, of someone searching for slippers in the dark. I held my breath until my lungs burned, my eyes locked on Denzel’s. The library, which had felt like a cavernous stage for our shared heat just moments ago, suddenly felt like a cage.
Every ticking second of the grandfather clock in the foyer was a hammer blow against my composure. If the door opened... if Lexi walked in looking for a glass of water or a friend to gossip with about the night's hangovers, my life wouldn't just change; it would cease to exist in any form I recognized.
"Denzel," I breathed, the name a jagged sliver of panic. "She’s... she’s coming down."
"Let her," he
