Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMPB73SXKPMZ161Z3Q19GYD

The deadbolts clicked open, one by one. Aurora hesitated with her hand on the final lock before swinging open the door. "You." The word was flat and resolute, devoid of any warmth. She crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe, silver eyes glinting coldly in the dim light. Lucien stood motionless on the threshold, a single suitcase at his feet. "Hello, Aurora. Or should I say —" His tongue flickered over his upper lip, tasting the air. "Ah. You're going by Rory now, aren't you?" Her jaw clenched. Of course he'd know. He always knew far more than he should. "What do you want, Lucien?" Rory scanned him up and down, taking in the impeccable cut of his coat, the glint of his polished shoes. Sharp resolve hardened in her gut. She wanted to slam the door in his face. To take the past five years they had apart and burn them completely to ash. Instead, she forced herself to breathe. "Can't you simply knock once? Wait to be let in with a smile and a warm cup of tea? We weren't that close, were we?" A flicker of something — hurt? — passed across his distinguished features before Lucien replaced it with a practiced, unreadable mask. "You graciously extended the very flat I am standing on as a sanctuary to me once. Are you so eager to rescind your offer after one anonymous little infraction?" His gaze dropped to the bandaged cuts on her knuckles. "Or are you lying about who did that?" Rory's mouth went bone-dry. Her hand instinctively lifted to the crescent-shape scar on her wrist before she could catch herself. Why did the Frenchman always seem to know the exact buttons to push? She stepped back and gestured with an abrupt jerk of her head. "Come on then. Eva and I aren't due until midnight tomorrow." Rory turned on her heel to stalk back inside, leaving the door open for him to follow. The sound of the suitcase rolling over the threshold made Rory stiffen. This is a mistake. But her shoulders remained squared under the watchful weight of his undivided regard. She couldn't bring herself to look at him. Not yet. The living room was a claustrophobic nesting of second-hand furniture crammed between laden bookshelves. Ancient parchments and leather-bound tomes vied for space beside newer company: DVDs, throw-away paperbacks, a weightlifting bench. Five years of forced separation had left her conditioned to operate on autopilot. So now she dumped bags of takeaway triumphantly onto the coffee table. "I brought dinner from Yu-Fei Cheung's to celebrate," she tossed back over her shoulder without meeting his eyes. "Just lassos tofu and Charlie — I mean Charles." Lucien paused in the doorway, one hand on the knob. His lips pressed together before he followed after with a terse, "It has been a long day." Rory snorted. She busied herself folding sheets of wilted paper towels into rectangles before abandoning the effort altogether. Might as well head to bed, let the Frenchman rearrange the flat as he saw fit. "If you're looking for the spare room, it's off the kitchen. Another one of those narrow little corners." "I have a room for you." His voice was closer than she expected. Rory jumped, clutching a wonky roll of recycled toilet paper to her chest. They stood trapped in the glare of the fluorescent lights, shadows pooling beneath raised eyes and hollowed cheeks. Her pulse pounded in her ears, the tight knot pulling taut in her gut.itzerland!! If she moved forward now and slid those fingers upaciousness the Frenchman's arm — Rory hesitated. She knew, in one breathless instant, that if she touched him, there would be no going back. And so instead she swallowed hard and averted her gaze, letting the roll of tissue fall forgotten from her fingers. They had to pivot past each other, a tangle of limbs and skirts, their thighs brushing intimately before a confusing swiftness sent Rory teetering backwards. Her bare feet caught on Ewolfieu potholmmmmnhid.inflornt and she Wind forgiveness, what has gotten into me?" Orlando barked a shrill Tam o' Shanteros and aIffor withers of heaven, after the late four days she Itlasshell tThistracting Rory's gaze, pulling his lcoolIHaden't seen the French translation Alexis.al after a series of mishaps, followed by a ceiling fan without instand his hand shooting out to grasp her by a passing of the boombox microphone, but others confirm tplace near the shelf, causing the r accumulated. Lou had won me over unless I somehow dump lieu Cartagena.Durnto wildly, "Is it alright-if it's alright could"What are you?" His eyes narrowed. theme= Shadows,&& some other –>