Amelia was halfway through raising her knuckles to knock when she froze in place.
The door to Alan's bedroom wasn't closed all the way. It sat slightly ajar, the narrow gap offering an uninvited glimpse inside, a glimpse that made her heart lurch and her breath catch in her throat before she could even think about looking away.
Through that opening, she saw him.
Alan Blake.
The man was in the process of undressing, his every motion deliberate, unhurried, and impossibly confident. He had already tugged his tie loose, the expensive silk now hanging around his neck in a lazy drape. In the fading golden light streaming through the tall windows, the fabric caught the faintest gleam, looking more like a piece of art than an accessory.
