Ivy didn't scream. Some instinct older than fear told her screaming would only speed up whatever was about to happen, and instead she moved, fast and silent, sweeping the notebook off the floor and backing toward her front door with her heart slamming against her ribs.

"There's no need for that," a voice said from the window, low, unfamiliar, and Ivy's whole body went rigid at the sight of a man she'd never seen before climbing through with the kind of unhurried confidence that told her this wasn't his first time doing exactly this. "Mr. Vane just wants the notebook. Hand it over, and I'll be gone before your boyfriend's...