Evelyn's POV
Evelyn's POVHis hand was warm—noticeably, unmistakably warm—and in contrast, mine felt almost cold, the difference so stark that it made me aware of my own body in a way I hadn’t been a moment ago; his fingers were long, defined, the kind of hands people noticed, and right now they held mine with a quiet ease that felt far too natural.
He glanced at the cigarette in my hand, then smiled faintly before taking it from me, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a gold lighter.
I didn’t know much about lighters, but I had spent enough time in rooms filled with people who did to recognize one when I saw it; the S.T. Dupont lighter in his hand was unmistakable—custom-made, engraved with his name, and that mysterious letter E people had once speculated about without ever ar
