AI The door creaked open before Aurora could fully turn the key, the heavy deadbolt groaning like an old man’s joints. She froze mid-step, her breath catching as the scent of bergamot and something darker—smoke, maybe, or the faintest hint of something animal—drifted into the hallway. The air in Eva’s flat was thick with the weight of a thousand unread books and the faint tang of curry from below, but beneath it all, there was *him *.
Lucien Moreau stood just inside the threshold, his ivory cane tapping once against the linoleum with the precision of a metronome. His platinum blond hair was slicked back as always, but his tailored charcoal suit looked rumpled, the lapels slightly askew, as if he’d been hurrying. His amber eye met hers first, then the black one followed, narrowing as if he’d been expecting her to bolt.
“You’re late,” he said, his voice smooth as aged whiskey, with the faintest French lilt that never failed to make her pulse jump. “I thought you’d sent someone else.”
Aurora’s fingers twitched at her sides. She should have known. Should have *guessed *. But the way he stood there, so effortlessly elegant, so *certain *, made her chest tighten. “You’re the last person I expected to see.”
His mouth quirked, just slightly . “And yet, here I am.”
She exhaled through her nose, forcing her body to relax. “What do you want , Lucien?”
He stepped fully into the flat, the cane tapping again as he moved toward the kitchen. The cat, Ptolemy, lifted his head from his perch on the windowsill, ears twitching, before flicking his tail and returning to his nap. “I want what I always wanted,” Lucien said, pouring himself a glass of water from the tap without asking. “Your help.”
Aurora’s stomach twisted. She knew that tone . Knew the way his voice dropped just a fraction, the way his shoulders tensed beneath the fabric of his suit. It was the same tone he’d used the last time they’d been together—before everything went to hell.
“You’re asking for trouble,” she said, crossing her arms .
Lucien turned, his black eye fixed on her. “I’m always asking for trouble, *ma chérie *.”
The nickname—*my love*—slid into the space between them like a knife. She flinched, but only because it had been so long since anyone had called her that. So long since anyone had looked at her like he was.
“Don’t,” she warned.
He raised his glass in a mock salute. “You’re the one who opened the door.”
Aurora’s jaw clenched . “I didn’t know it was you.”
“No?” His gaze flicked over her—her delivery uniform, the smudges of grease still faint on her fingers, the way her hair was pulled back in a messy knot. “You don’t recognize the man who saved your life?”
The words hit her like a physical blow. She remembered the fire. Remembered the way he’d dragged her out of the burning building, his hands rough around her wrists, his breath hot against her ear as he’d hissed, *Run.* She remembered the way he’d looked at her afterward—like she was something precious he’d almost lost.
And then he’d vanished.
“That was a long time ago,” she said, her voice quieter than she intended.
Lucien set his glass down with deliberate care. “Time doesn’t erase things, Rory . Not for me.”
The way he said her old nickname—*Rory *—made her skin prickle. She hated that he knew it. Hated that he still remembered.
“You should have just knocked,” she said, turning toward the kitchen counter where her laptop was open, the screen glowing with half-finished notes from her last delivery. “I wasn’t expecting company.”
“Neither was I.” His voice was low, almost amused. “But here we are.”
Aurora glanced over her shoulder. He was leaning against the counter now, his cane resting against the edge like a prop. His suit jacket was unbuttoned just enough to show the faintest hint of the blade concealed in his cane—she’d seen it once, years ago, when he’d been forced to draw it in a back alley in Marseille. The memory made her stomach clench.
“What do you need?” she asked, her voice sharper than she meant it to be .
Lucien pushed off the counter and walked toward her, his movements slow, deliberate. “A favor.”
She turned fully to face him , her back pressing against the counter. “I’m not doing you any favors.”
His amber eye caught the light from the window, glowing like a cat’s in the dark. “You don’t have a choice.”
Aurora’s breath hitched. “I always have a choice.”
“This time,” he said, stepping closer, “you don’t.”
She should have stepped back. Should have put distance between them. But her body seemed to have a mind of its own, staying rooted in place as he closed the space between them. The heat of him radiated off him , warm and intoxicating, like standing too close to a fire.
“Why now?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper .
Lucien’s gaze dropped to her lips, then flicked back up to her eyes. “Because I need you.”
The words sent a shiver down her spine. She remembered the last time he’d said something like that—before the betrayal, before the lies. Before she’d walked away.
“You don’t,” she said, but her hands were already reaching up, gripping the edge of the counter for support .
Lucien’s hand lifted, brushing a strand of hair from her face. His fingers were warm, calloused. “I do.”
And then his mouth was on hers, soft and demanding at the same time, like he’d been starving for this for years. Aurora’s eyes fluttered closed, her body melting into him as his other hand tangled in her hair, tilting her head just right. She could taste the water on his lips, the faint metallic tang of something she didn’t recognize. She could feel the weight of his cane pressing into her side, the hard line of his body against hers.
When he finally pulled away, his breath was ragged, his eyes dark with something she couldn’t name. “You still taste like coffee and regret,” he murmured.
Aurora’s chest was heaving , her fingers still tangled in his hair. “You know I hate coffee.”
Lucien smirked, pressing another quick kiss to her lips before stepping back. “Then you should drink more of it.”
She wanted to argue. Wanted to tell him to leave. But the way he was looking at her—like she was the only thing in the room that mattered—made her voice stick in her throat.
“What’s the favor?” she asked instead, her voice rough .
Lucien straightened his cane, the blade disappearing back inside with a quiet *click *. “I need you to find something for me.”
Aurora crossed her arms. “What?”
“A man,” he said simply. “He’s been missing for three days. No ransom note. No note at all. Just… gone.”
Aurora’s eyebrows lifted. “You’re asking me to find a missing person?”
Lucien nodded. “But not just any missing person. This man—his name is Daniel Vexley. He’s a collector. A *serious * collector.”
Aurora raised an eyebrow . “Of what?”
“Everything,” Lucien said, as if that explained everything . “Artifacts. Relics. Things that shouldn’t exist.”
Aurora’s pulse quickened . She knew about collectors like that. She’d heard stories—whispers in the underground, in the back rooms of auctions and in the dimly lit corners of bars like Silas’. Things that weren’t supposed to be for sale.
“And why me?” she asked.
Lucien’s gaze darkened. “Because you’re good at this. Because you know how to disappear when you need to. And because,” he added, stepping closer again, “I owe you.”
Aurora’s breath caught. She remembered the night he’d saved her. Remembered the way he’d looked at her afterward, like she was something precious he’d almost lost. She remembered the way he’d disappeared the next day, leaving her standing in the rain with nothing but a promise.
“You don’t owe me anything,” she said, but her voice lacked conviction .
Lucien’s hand lifted, brushing a finger down the crescent-shaped scar on her left wrist—the one she’d gotten as a child, long before she’d ever met him . “You’re right,” he said softly . “I don’t owe you anything. But I *want * to.”
Aurora’s chest tightened. She wanted to believe him . Wanted to believe that this was real, that he wasn’t just another man who’d walk away when things got complicated.
“Fine,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt . “But I’m not doing this for free.”
Lucien’s smirk returned, slow and dangerous. “Of course not.”
She pushed off the counter, turning toward her laptop. “Give me the details. And don’t think I won’t charge you extra for the inconvenience.”
Lucien chuckled, following her as she pulled up a blank document. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
Aurora typed in the information he gave her—Daniel Vexley’s name, a few physical descriptions, the last known location where he’d been seen . As she worked, she could feel Lucien’s eyes on her, watching her fingers fly across the keyboard, watching the way she bit her lip when she concentrated.
“You’re quiet,” she said after a moment.
Lucien leaned against the doorframe, his cane resting against his thigh. “I’m listening.”
Aurora exhaled through her nose. “To what?”
“To the sound of you working,” he said simply. “It’s… satisfying.”
Aurora glanced up at him , her eyebrows lifting. “You’re weirdly observant.”
Lucien shrugged. “I have my talents.”
She rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. “What’s the real reason you’re here?”
Lucien’s gaze darkened. “The real reason?”
Aurora nodded. “You didn’t just come here to ask for a favor. You came here because you wanted to see me.”
Lucien’s mouth quirked. “And?”
Aurora hesitated. “And I’m not sure I’m ready for that.”
Lucien stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper . “You never were.”
Aurora’s breath hitched. She wanted to argue. Wanted to tell him that things were different now, that she wasn’t the same woman she’d been when they’d first met. But the way he was looking at her—like he saw right through her, like he knew every secret she’d ever kept—made her heart race .
“What do you want from me, Lucien?” she asked, her voice barely audible .
He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered against her skin, warm and electric . “Everything,” he said softly . “But I’ll settle for a chance.”
Aurora’s chest tightened. She wanted to say no. Wanted to tell him to leave and never come back. But the way he was looking at her—like she was the only thing in the world that mattered—made her voice stick in her throat.
“Fine,” she whispered. “But I’m not promising anything.”
Lucien’s smile was slow, dangerous. “I know.”
And then he was kissing her again, his hands tangling in her hair, pulling her closer until there was no space between them. Aurora melted into him , her body arching into his as his mouth moved over hers, possessive and hungry. She could feel the heat of him , the way his body pressed against hers, the way his hands roamed over her skin like he couldn’t get enough.
When he finally pulled away, his breath was ragged, his eyes dark with desire . “You’re going to regret this,” he murmured.
Aurora smirked, pressing another quick kiss to his lips. “Maybe. But I think I’ll survive.”
Lucien’s laugh was low, dark. “You have no idea what you’re getting into.”
Aurora stepped back, pulling away just enough to meet his gaze. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”
Lucien’s eyes darkened, his hand lifting to cup her cheek. “Do you?”
Aurora’s breath caught. She wanted to believe him . Wanted to believe that this was real, that he wasn’t just another man who’d walk away when things got complicated.
But she knew better.
She knew the way men like Lucien Moreau worked. She knew the way they promised the world and then took it back.
And yet, as he looked at her now, as he brushed his thumb over her cheekbone, she couldn’t help the way her heart raced .
“Let’s find this man,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt . “And then we’ll see.”
Lucien’s smirk returned, slow and dangerous. “I like the way you think.”
Aurora turned back to her laptop, her fingers flying across the keyboard as she pulled up the information on Daniel Vexley. She could feel Lucien’s eyes on her, watching her every move, watching the way her fingers trembled just slightly as she typed.
“You’re nervous,” he observed.
Aurora glanced up at him , her eyebrows lifting. “I’m not nervous.”
Lucien’s gaze darkened. “Liar.”
Aurora rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. “Fine. Maybe a little.”
Lucien stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper . “Good.”
Aurora’s breath hitched. She wanted to believe him . Wanted to believe that this was real, that he wasn’t just another man who’d walk away when things got complicated.
But she knew better.
She knew the way men like Lucien Moreau worked.
And yet, as he looked at her now, as he brushed his thumb over her cheekbone, she couldn’t help the way her heart raced .
“Let’s find this man,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt . “And then we’ll see.”
Lucien’s smirk returned, slow and dangerous. “I like the way you think.”
Aurora turned back to her laptop, her fingers flying across the keyboard as she pulled up the information on Daniel Vexley. She could feel Lucien’s eyes on her, watching her every move, watching the way her fingers trembled just slightly as she typed.
“You’re really going to do this?” he asked, his voice low .
Aurora glanced up at him , her eyebrows lifting. “I said I would.”
Lucien’s gaze darkened. “And?”
Aurora hesitated. “And I meant it.”
Lucien’s smirk returned, slow and dangerous. “Good.”
Aurora exhaled, her fingers stilling on the keyboard. “What?”
Lucien stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper . “I’m glad.”
Aurora’s breath caught. She wanted to believe him . Wanted to believe that this was real, that he wasn’t just another man who’d walk away when things got complicated.
But she knew better.
She knew the way men like Lucien Moreau worked.
And yet, as he looked at her now, as he brushed his thumb over her cheekbone, she couldn’t help the way her heart raced .
“Let’s find this man,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt . “And then we’ll see.”
Lucien’s smirk returned, slow and dangerous. “I like the way you think.”
Aurora turned back to her laptop, her fingers flying across the keyboard as she pulled up the information on Daniel Vexley. She could feel Lucien’s eyes on her, watching her every move, watching the way her fingers trembled just slightly as she typed.
“You’re really going to do this?” he asked again, his voice low .
Aurora glanced up at him , her eyebrows lifting. “I said I would.”
Lucien’s gaze darkened, his hand lifting to cup her cheek. “And?”
Aurora’s breath hitched. She wanted to believe him . Wanted to believe that this was real, that he wasn’t just another man who’d walk away when things got complicated.
But she knew better.
She knew the way men like Lucien Moreau worked.
And yet, as he looked at her now, as he brushed his thumb over her cheekbone, she couldn’t help the way her heart raced .
“Let’s find this man,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt . “And then we’ll see.”
Lucien’s smirk returned, slow and dangerous. “I like the way you think.”
Aurora exhaled, her fingers stilling on the keyboard. She turned to face him fully, her voice low. “What do you want from me, Lucien?”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stepped closer, his body pressing against hers until there was no space between them. His breath was warm against her lips, his voice a whisper . “Everything.”
Aurora’s chest tightened. She wanted to believe him . Wanted to believe that this was real, that he wasn’t just another man who’d walk away when things got complicated.
But she knew better.
She knew the way men like Lucien Moreau worked.
And yet, as he looked at her now, as his lips brushed against hers, she couldn’t help the way her heart raced .
“Let’s find this man,” she whispered, her voice barely audible . “And then we’ll see.”
Lucien’s smirk returned, slow and dangerous. “I like the way you think.”
Aurora pulled away just enough to meet his gaze, her fingers still tangled in his hair. “I’m not promising anything.”
Lucien’s eyes darkened. “I know.”
And then he was kissing her again, his hands roaming over her skin, pulling her closer until there was no space between them. Aurora melted into him , her body arching into his as his mouth moved over hers, possessive and hungry. She could feel the heat of him , the way his body pressed against hers, the way his hands roamed over her skin like he couldn’t get enough.
When he finally pulled away, his breath was ragged, his eyes dark with desire . “You’re going to regret this,” he murmured.
Aurora smirked, pressing another quick kiss to his lips. “Maybe. But I think I’ll survive.”
Lucien’s laugh was low, dark. “You have no idea what you’re getting into.”
Aurora stepped back, pulling away just enough to meet his gaze. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”
Lucien’s eyes darkened. “Do you?”
Aurora’s breath caught. She wanted to believe him . Wanted to believe that this was real, that he wasn’t just another man who’d walk away when things got complicated.
But she knew better.
She knew the way men like Lucien Moreau worked.
And yet, as he looked at her now, as he brushed his thumb over her cheekbone, she couldn’t help the way her heart raced .
“Let’s find this man,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt . “And then we’ll see.”
Lucien’s smirk returned, slow and dangerous. “I like the way you think.”
Aurora turned back to her laptop, her fingers flying across the keyboard as she pulled up the information on Daniel Vexley. She could feel Lucien’s eyes on her, watching her every move, watching the way her fingers trembled just slightly as she typed.
“You’re really going to do this?” he asked, his voice low .
Aurora glanced up at him , her eyebrows lifting. “I said I would.”
Lucien’s gaze darkened. “And?”
Aurora hesitated. “And I meant it.”
Lucien’s smirk returned, slow and dangerous. “Good.”
Aurora exhaled, her fingers stilling on the keyboard. “What now?”
Lucien stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper . “Now we start.”
Aurora nodded, her voice low. “Agreed.”
Lucien’s hand lifted, brushing a strand of hair from her face. His fingers lingered against her skin, warm and electric . “You’re going to be the death of me.”
Aurora smirked, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “Maybe. But I think I’ll survive.”
Lucien’s laugh was low, dark. “You have no idea what you’re getting into.”
Aurora turned back to her laptop, her fingers flying across the keyboard as she began to dig. She could feel Lucien’s eyes on her, watching her every move, watching the way her fingers trembled just slightly as she typed.
“You’re really going to do this?” he asked again, his voice low .
Aurora glanced up at him , her eyebrows lifting. “I said I would.”
Lucien’s gaze darkened. “And?”
Aurora hesitated. “And I meant it.”
Lucien’s smirk returned, slow and dangerous. “Good.”
Aurora exhaled, her fingers stilling on the keyboard. She turned to face him fully, her voice low. “What do you want from me, Lucien?”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stepped closer, his body pressing against hers until there was no space between them. His breath was warm against her lips, his voice a whisper . “Everything.”
Aurora’s chest tightened. She wanted to believe him . Wanted to believe that this was real, that he wasn’t just another man who’d walk away when things got complicated.
But she knew better.
She knew the way men like Lucien Moreau worked.
And yet, as he looked at her now, as his lips brushed against hers, she couldn’t help the way her heart raced .