My glove—the one I lost a week ago at the silent auction. Lucian might think he’s being clever, but I’m not one to play games without setting my own terms.
Done.
Don’t be late.
My breath catches, and I shove the phone into my bag.
What’s one evening alone with the man who haunts my dreams and nightmares?
Tobias won’t find out, anyway. He’s flying to Chicago tomorrow morning for a business meeting and won’t be backuntil the weekend, when I’ll see him during our wedding cake tasting.
I’ve spent too long living cautiously, carefully curating every move to avoid stepping out of line. Maybe it’s time to see what happens when I stop playing it safe.
Chapter 10
Evelyn
The next evening, I dress carefully. I choose a black sheath dress that hugs my curves without being overly revealing, pairing it with heels that click sharply against the pavement. My hair falls in loose waves, and I wear minimal makeup, enough to look polished but not like I’m trying too hard.
This isn’t a date.
This is... something else entirely.
The Vaultlooms before me, an unassuming building with a single brass plaque by the door. No sign, no indication of what lies inside. I press the buzzer, and the door clicks open almost immediately. A man in a tailored suit greets me with a nod.
“Ms. Laurent,” he says. “This way.”
He leads me through a dimly lit corridor, with walls covered in dark wood and velvet drapes that absorb sound. My heels sinkinto the plush carpet as I follow him. The air grows heavier, thick with anticipation.
We stop before a set of double doors. The man pushes them open with a soft creak and gestures for me to enter. “Mr. Blackwood is waiting for you.”
The room is vast, yet intimate in its opulence. A low fire crackles in the black marble fireplace, casting flickering shadows across the walls lined with bookshelves and art. In the center of the room stands Lucian, his back to me as he gazes into the flames. His hair is slightly disheveled, as though he’s been running his fingers through it. He’s dressed in a grey cashmere sweater and tailored trousers.
“Evelyn,” he says. “You came.”
I step further into the room, and the doors click shut behind me with finality.
“You knew I would.”
He turns, and his eyes meet mine. As always, his gaze is cool, assessing, and unnervingly intense.
“I did,” Lucian admits, stepping closer. The firelight dances across his features, highlighting the sharp angles of his face and the shadows that linger in his eyes. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a single white glove. It’s pristine, as though it had never been lost. His fingers brush against mine as he hands it to me, and the contact burns like a brand.
I want. I desire. Iache.
“Is that the only thing of mine you’ve been keeping?” I take the glove, my fingers brushing against his again, deliberately this time. The corner of his mouth twitches.
“You tell me. What else do you think I’ve taken from you?”
“My peace of mind, for one.”
He chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that seems to vibrate through the room. “That was never mine to take. You gave it up willingly.”
“And what exactly am I supposed to give up now?”
“Nothing you’re not already willing to part with. Let’s not pretend this is about the glove or peace of mind. You’re here because you want to be.”
“I’m here to thank you for the restoration project,” I say before he can delve deeper into truths I’m not ready to confront. I straighten my posture. “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and I’m grateful.”
