For a moment, silence reigned. Lucius could hear her rapid heartbeat spike, a flurry of hesitation flooding her thoughts.
When she didn't respond, he turned the handle and stepped inside, his movements unhurried but purposeful.
The sight before him was almost endearing. Jean stood in the middle of the room, her dress half-adjusted, her hair only partially pinned, and her cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and frustration.
Her wide eyes met his, and she quickly looked away, clutching the edges of her gown nervously.
"I—I'm sorry, my lord- Lucius" she stammered, her voice trembling. "I didn't mean to—"
Lucius raised a hand, silencing her gently but firmly. "Breathe, Jean."
She blinked at him, startled.
"You're panicking over nothing," he said, his tone calm yet compelling.
He walked toward her, each step deliberate, until he stood close enough to catch her gaze.
