(Malia’s POV)
The moment I stepped back into Ivy’s apartment, the weight of the folder in my hand felt heavier than my entire body. I closed the door behind me, leaning against it for a second, my head tilted back, breathing like I’d just run ten blocks.
Ivy poked her head out of the kitchen, still holding the same apple from earlier, though it was now only a core. “You look like you saw a ghost.”
“Worse,” I muttered, raising the folder. “I saw a contract.”
Her eyes went wide. She walked closer, the apple forgotten. “Already?”
I set the folder on the counter and rubbed my temples. “He didn’t waste time. A job. A trip. Milan. He wants me to shadow him for a gala.”
Ivy’s jaw dropped. “Milan? As in Italy-Milan?”
“Yes, Ivy, not Texas-Milan.”
She snatched up the folder, flipping through
