The morning sky painted a half-past-six palette as I emerged from the shower, choosing a slightly thicker black turtleneck, complemented by loose, dark blue trousers and a long grey coat. My feet found solace in white sneakers, and my familiar watch adorned my wrist. On a whim, I slung a black tote bag over my shoulder, envisioning potential use.
Navigating the foyer, I confirmed the time and was met by the chime of the doorbell. Glancing at my phone, it was twenty past seven—wasn't he quite early?
Attempting to quell the tangle of thoughts, I opened the door. As my gaze fell upon him, one thought prevailed: divine favor must have graced this man. He seemed capable of adorning anything, effortlessly exuding an air of exclusivity.
"Good morning."
Lucian stood before me, impossibly composed, as if the morning chill didn't touch him. His presence alone was enough to make the air feel heavier, charged.
"You're early," I remarked, trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy despite the way he looked at me - like I was something if not someone worth waiting for.
His expression didn't waver. "I didn't want to wait."
For some reasons, the words made my stomach tighten.
I cleared my throat, glancing away. "Did you have breakfast?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he stepped forward with quiet intent. I instinctively took a step back, only for my retreat to be halted when he extended a bouquet of dahlias.
"These are for you."
I blinked, staring at the flowers, then at him. My mind struggled to process the gesture, the weight of its meaning.
"... Dahlias?" I finally managed, my voice quieter than I intended.
Lucian's gaze softened - just a fraction, but enough to unravel me. "I want to know you."
Heat surges to my face. For a moment, all I could do was stand there, caught in his unwavering stare, the scent of dahlias lingering between us.
The silence stretched, and I need to break it before it swallowed me whole. "Would you perhaps like to come in?"
Taking his shoes off, Lucian followed me inside, his presence filling my space effortlessly. I busied myself in the kitchen, searching for a vase with more urgency than necessary.
"Make yourself comfortable," I said, attempting casualness. "Do you want something to drink? Coffee or tea?"
I could feel his gaze on me - steady and consuming. My fingers fumbled as I finally settled for a tall glass, filling it with water before placing the roses inside. Turning around in relief, I nearly collided with him.
Lucian stood inches away, close enough for me to catch the woodsy-lavender scent of him. Close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating off his body.
"Do you like them?"
His voice was lower now, like a secret meant only for me.
I swallowed, taking an automatic step back. "You didn't answer my question."
"I have plans for that."
His response made no sense, and yet, it sent a shiver down my spine. I subconsciously tiltet my head, only to realize too late just how close he had leaned in. His face was mere inches from mine, the space between us almost nonexistent.
Panic kicked in. I needed air. I needed distance. Without thinking, I turned on my heel and walked-ran-toward the door, slipping on my shoes as fast as possible.
Lucians presence followed. I reached for the handle, only for his hand to settle over mine. Large, warm and gentle.
I froze.
His other arm circled my waist, pulling me just enough that I could feel his breath against the shell of my ear. "It's a date."
My heart stopped. A date?
Before I could react-push him away, demand an explanation, do anything- he released me, walking past me as nothing had happened. As if he hadn't just turned my entire morning upside down.
The door swung open. "Are you coming?"
Still dazed, I followed him to the elevator. Silence thickened between us, my mind replaying what just happened over and over again. My face burned, and I bit my lip, praying the heat in my cheeks wasn't obvious.
The elevator doors opened to the parking lot. I instinctively turned toward my car - only to be pulled back.
Lucians grip was firm yet effortless. "My car."
There was no room for negotiation in his tone.
I barely had a second to process before I found myself standing before a matte black ferrari SF90.
I let out a slow breath, pursing my lips. Wasn't this just signing contracts?