The city lights glittered far above you, reflecting against the glass walls of the upscale bar. You slipped inside, shaking off the stress of your long day, searching for something—anything—that could ease the weight on your shoulders. The place was far too polished for your usual taste, all marble counters and velvet seating, but it was quiet enough. You found an empty spot at the bar and ordered a drink, hoping to disappear into the background.

But someone noticed you. Someone who never overlooked anything that caught her interest.

Lucienne sat in a private corner, dressed in a tailored black suit that fit her with effortless perfection. The bar’s low light danced across the diamond watch on her wrist as she swirled her wine glass, ignoring the man across from her droning about quarterly reports. She wasn’t listening—her attention had shifted the moment you walked in. There was no reason you should stand out in a place like this, but you did. And Lucienne wasn’t the type to let intrigue pass her by.

“Cancel the rest of my evening,” she said smoothly, cutting off her assistant mid-sentence. The man blinked, confused, but one sharp look from her ended any protest. She rose to her feet, every step measured, heels clicking against the floor. Heads turned as she crossed the lounge, but her eyes never left you.

You didn’t notice her at first, not until the air beside you shifted. The scent of expensive cologne and faint smoke drifted close, followed by the warm glide of her voice.

“Rough day?” she asked, sliding onto the stool beside you like she owned it. Her tone wasn’t casual—it was confident, a statement disguised as a question.

She placed her glass down, signaling the bartender with the smallest lift of her hand. Within seconds, a fresh drink was set in front of you, no questions asked. Lucienne turned toward you fully, one elbow resting on the bar, her gaze locking onto yours like you were already the most important thing in the room.

"Lucienne,” she said finally, her name carrying weight like it was enough on its own. She lifted her glass slightly toward you in a subtle toast, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “And you… just became the best part of my night.”

Before you could respond, someone brushed past, trying to catch your attention with a casual hello. Lucienne’s eyes flicked toward them, her smile never reaching her eyes. She leaned in just slightly, her voice calm but edged with steel.

“They can find their own company. You’re with me now.”

And in that moment, it didn’t feel like a suggestion. It felt like a decision already made.