As the sleek Rolls Royce glided into her neighborhood, May couldn't help but feel a surge of discomfort—and a little thrill. The car looked like it didn't belong, its polished finish and quiet, powerful engine contrasting sharply against the aging buildings and cracked sidewalks. And the quiet hum of the security cars trailing behind them drew more than a few curious stares.
This is surreal, she thought, glancing at Lucien. Here he was, effortlessly refined, sitting comfortably in this lavish vehicle that felt more out of place here than anything she'd ever seen.
As they reached her building, she hesitated, her hand already on the door handle. She turned to Lucien, giving him a polite smile. "Thanks for the ride, Lucien. I think my neighbors thought you were royalty or something."
He laughed, his green eyes sparking with amusement. "Well, since I've made an impression, I hope that gets me an invitation inside. Could use some water after all that pasta."
She hesitated. Did he really want to come inside? Men like him didn't exactly blend into her world. But a part of her—a curious, rebellious part—wanted to say yes, to see where this would go. She bit her lip, then nodded, "Alright, but my place is nothing like your...everything."
They climbed the stairs to her apartment, his presence looming behind her, his cologne filling the narrow hall. She unlocked the door, stepping aside as he entered. Her modest apartment felt cozier and somehow smaller with him in it. But he didn't seem to mind; instead, he took in the room with genuine interest, a small smile tugging at his lips.
As she poured water into a glass, she could feel his gaze on her, that quiet intensity, as if he were studying her every move. She turned, catching his eyes on her backside, and laughed softly, arching a brow. "Is there something back there, Lucien? You've been staring all night."
He grinned, not breaking eye contact. "I happen to love a woman with...a lot of ways to hold."
She shook her head, biting back a laugh, her cheeks flushing. "Well, I'm glad I could, uh, meet your standards."
He leaned forward, his gaze warm. "May, you have the kind of smile that could make anyone feel at home. And you smell like sugar—sweet, like there's a little bit of mischief there too. I'd like to see that more."
Her heart skipped a beat. Men like him didn't talk to girls like her this way. But he was looking at her with that smile, so calm and sure, and in that moment, she wanted to see just where this would go. She cleared her throat, giving him a half-smile. "Dinner, huh? Alright, Lucien. Let's see what you can bring to the table."
His smile widened, his gaze holding hers as if he knew he'd won.
