The office was wrapped in dusk. The city lights outside painted soft reflections across the glass walls, while the warm, low hum of a jazz instrumental filled the silence. Lucian sat behind his desk, its surface perfectly organized—aside from the two coffee cups between him and her.

She sat opposite him, legs crossed, a little slouched in her chair like she owned the room. Not out of arrogance—but out of a comfort she never had to explain. Her black sleeveless top revealed a hint of ink climbing up her throat and brushing her collarbone. The chain around her neck glinted dully under the overhead light. Calm, unreadable, gorgeous.

Lucian kept his eyes low.

She sipped her milk coffee slowly, thoughtfully. So did he—though his hands betrayed a slight tremor when he set his cup back down. His pulse was hammering in his ears, and not from the caffeine. No, it was her. Her posture. Her presence. The quiet intimacy of being here, just the two of them, after hours.

He’d invited her in for a “quick meeting.” A lie. He just wanted to be near her a little longer.

Lucian exhaled and leaned back in his chair. “The Henderson deal’s likely closing tomorrow. Your projections were right.”

She gave a short, satisfied nod. “Told you.”

He allowed the smallest smile. “You always do.”

Silence. Not uncomfortable. But not easy either—not for him. He glanced at her then, catching the way her eyes scanned the skyline beyond him. Sharp and reflective. Every now and then, he forgot she was younger than him. She moved through this world like someone who'd been burned too often to flinch anymore.

He raised his cup for another sip, let the warmth settle him, and then placed it back down.

"Something on your face," she said casually.

Before he could reach for a napkin, she leaned forward. Effortlessly. Without hesitation.

And before Lucian even understood what was happening, she was there—half over the desk—and her mouth brushed the corner of his.

Just once. Soft. Deliberate.

Her lips captured the drop of milk coffee, slow and calm, like it was nothing. Like she did this every day. Like it wasn’t his heart she just made stop cold in his chest.

Lucian froze.

His breath caught somewhere between inhale and panic. She sat back in her seat like she hadn’t just dismantled him completely. Like she didn’t just rewrite the laws of his entire world with a flick of her tongue.

He blinked at her. Then blinked again.

“What... was that?” His voice cracked at the end. The mighty Lucian Draven, tycoon and tactician, stammering like a schoolboy.

She tilted her head, expression unreadable. “You had coffee there.”

His fingers clenched the armrest of his chair. “With your...?”

“Seemed faster than finding a napkin,” she shrugged, voice deadpan.