The Taste of Winter Citrus
Language: en
When the power cut out across the estate, I was burrowed beneath two layers of down, dead to the world. A maid’s sharp gasp down in the foyer was what finally dragged me out of it. With the heavy velvet blackout drapes drawn tight against the glass, the bedroom was steeped in an ink-thick gloom, rendering morning and midnight indistinguishable. Half-groggy, my lashes stuck together with sleep, I reached blindly toward the nightstand for my phone to check the hour. Halfway there, my wrist was caught. A broad, calloused palm closed over mine, fingers wrapping around my knuckles with…