Run: 2026-02-19-01KHT0021HWZYMNHHMDW2Y6VPN

The door creaked as it swung open, the sound echoing through the small flat. Eva's cat, Ptolemy, darted out from behind the couch, weaving between Rory's legs as she stood frozen in the doorway. Her eyes locked onto the figure standing in the dimly lit hallway, a mixture of surprise and wariness etched on her face. Lucien Moreau, the Frenchman, stood with an air of quiet confidence, his eyes fixed intently on Rory. His tailored charcoal suit seemed out of place in the cluttered, book-filled flat, but he wore it with an ease that made him almost blend in. Almost. "Lucien," Rory said finally, her voice neutral, but her eyes betraying a spark of curiosity. She hadn't seen him in months, not since their complicated parting. The memories of that night still lingered, a mix of hurt and attraction that she hadn't quite shaken off. Lucien's gaze roamed her face, taking in the dark circles under her eyes, the faint smudge of exhaustion on her cheeks. He noted the way her shoulders seemed to sag, just slightly, before she squared them, a hint of defiance sparking in her bright blue eyes. "Rory," he replied, his deep voice low and smooth, the hint of a French accent curling around her name. He stepped forward, his eyes never leaving hers, his movements fluid and deliberate. Rory's instincts screamed at her to step back, to slam the door shut and pretend she'd never seen him. But her legs seemed rooted to the spot, her feet heavy as lead. She felt like a rabbit caught in the headlights, frozen and helpless. Ptolemy, sensing the tension, let out a soft mew and rubbed against Rory's leg, as if trying to comfort her. Lucien's gaze flickered to the cat, a small, wry smile playing on his lips. "May I come in?" he asked, his voice dripping with politeness, but his eyes sparkling with a hint of challenge. Rory's hand tightened on the door handle, her mind racing with the implications of letting him in. But something about his tone, about the way he looked at her, made her hesitate. She stepped back, the door creaking as she swung it open wider. Lucien slid past her, his eyes scanning the flat with a practiced ease, taking in the stacks of books, the scattered papers, and the faint scent of curry wafting up from the restaurant below. He moved with a quiet confidence, his presence seeming to fill the small space. Rory closed the door behind him, the sound of the deadbolts clicking into place a reassuring reminder that she was still in control. She turned to face him, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in the sight of him, tall and imposing in her cluttered flat. "What brings you here, Lucien?" she asked, her voice firm, but her eyes betraying a flicker of curiosity. She hadn't expected to see him again, not after the way things had ended between them. Lucien's gaze locked onto hers, his eyes burning with an intensity that made her skin prickle. He moved closer, his steps slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving hers. "I've come to talk to you, Rory," he said, his voice low and husky, the words sending a shiver down her spine. "We left things... unfinished, last time." Rory's heart skipped a beat as he stopped in front of her, his face inches from hers. She could feel the heat emanating from his body, the scent of his cologne wafting up to tease her senses. "We did," she agreed, her voice barely above a whisper. She felt like she was drowning in the depths of his eyes, the memories of their past encounters swirling up to the surface. Lucien's eyes seemed to bore into hers, as if searching for something. He reached out, his fingers brushing against her cheek, sending a spark of electricity through her body. "I've missed you, Rory," he said, his voice low and rough, the words sending a shiver down her spine. Rory's eyes fluttered closed, her heart racing in her chest. She felt like she was standing on the edge of a precipice, staring into the unknown. She didn't know what the future held, or what Lucien's presence here meant. But she knew one thing - she couldn't turn him away. Not now. Not when the memories of their past encounters still lingered, a bittersweet reminder of what could have been.