Liora’s POV
I had been working for Ezra long enough to stop feeling like I was drowning every morning. I knew the rhythm of his days now. The moods he cycled through. The way he liked his documents sorted, the way he preferred his coffee, the subtle tilt of his head that told me when he was about to hand me more work. It was strange how quickly a person could adapt to someone so intimidating.
That afternoon, I placed the latest stack of prepared documents on his desk and stepped back with the practiced efficiency I had been trying to master. Ezra was writing something in his sharp, elegant handwriting, barely sparing me a glance. His sleeves were rolled just above his forearms, showing clean lines of muscle and veins that for some reason made my heart act stupid.
I cleared my throat sof
