The bar was warm and golden, filled with the soft hum of jazz and clinking glasses. Caliste swirled the wine in her glass, her legs crossed neatly as she laughed at something Leina said. The buzz of the crowd and the lingering heat of the alcohol numbed her, just enough to forget the cameras, the whispers, and the kiss that still haunted the headlines.
Then she felt it—like a ripple in the air. A shift in energy that made the tiny hairs at the back of her neck rise.
She glanced toward the entrance.
Lucian Velmore.
Sharp in a charcoal jacket, casually unbuttoned at the collar, his black eyes scanned the room until they landed on her. And when they did, they didn't leave.
"Did you invite him?" Caliste whispered to Leina, gripping her wine glass a little tighter.
Leina looked up and gasped softly. "Oh no. But... he looks good."
"That's not helpful," Caliste muttered under her breath.
Lucian walked in slowly, nodding at a few familiar faces, effortlessly fitting in. It wasn't long before he stood at the edge of their booth.
"Ladies," he greeted smoothly, his voice a velvet thread pulling Caliste's attention toward him. "Hope I'm not interrupting."
Leina smiled in that amused, knowing way. "Not at all. You're technically her husband, right?"
Caliste gave her a glare.
Lucian tilted his head toward Caliste, eyes twinkling. "I didn't know you came here."
"I didn't know you cared," she replied coolly, sipping her wine.
Lucian chuckled. "You're sharp tonight."
"Blame the merlot."
Without asking, he slipped into the seat beside her, far too close for a public setting. Caliste stiffened, but didn't move away. Not completely.
He leaned in, his cologne a whisper of cedar and night air. "You always look good in red," he murmured, eyes dropping briefly to the curve of her neckline. "But this... this one might be my favorite."
Caliste's face grew warm, and she quickly turned away to hide it. "Flattery won't fix the mess you made."
"I'm not here to fix anything tonight," he said simply. "I just wanted to sit with my wife."
His voice was so calm, so smooth, it felt more intimate than a kiss. Caliste glanced sideways, uncertain of how to respond. Lucian wasn't pushing. He was just... there. Solid, magnetic, familiar.
Leina, sensing the mood, made an excuse and slipped away.
Now they were alone in a crowd.
Lucian reached over and picked up her untouched second glass of wine. "May I?"
She shrugged.
He sipped, then handed it back. "Still prefer white. But this has bite."
"Like me," she muttered.
He smirked. "Exactly."
They sat in silence for a moment. Not awkward—charged. His thigh brushed against hers under the table. She didn't move away.
"Lucian…" she started.
"Yes?"
Her gaze dropped to the table. "Why are you really here?"
His answer was quiet, but clear. "Because I missed you."
The world outside the booth fell away. For a second, it was just them—two people pretending to play by the rules of a marriage that was never supposed to mean anything.
And yet here they were.
When Caliste didn't reply, Lucian reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Don't pull away from me anymore," he said softly.
She didn't promise anything.
But she didn't leave either.
Just as the silence between Lucian and Caliste began to feel too heavy, a familiar voice broke through the buzz of the crowd.
"Well, well, well... if it isn't the great Lucian Velmore, playing bodyguard to his wife at a bar," came a smooth, teasing drawl.
Lucian looked up with a sigh and a half-smile. "Tristan Grey," he said with mock annoyance. "Didn't realize rats could talk."
Tristan laughed and pulled up a chair without asking, tossing his blazer on the backrest. He was effortlessly charming—slightly tousled hair, a lazy smile, and that spark of mischief in his eyes that hadn't changed since prep school.
"You've really changed, man," Tristan said, glancing between Lucian and Caliste. "Since when does Lucian Velmore follow his wife to bars like a jealous boyfriend? Where's the classic version—the one who used to disappear for weeks with supermodels and come back without a tan but with stories?"
Lucian raised a brow, coolly sipping his wine. "And where's the version of you that used to beg me to bail you out of awkward one-night stands?"
Caliste blinked, caught between amusement and surprise. She had never seen Lucian like this—relaxed, sarcastic, even smiling without the usual coldness.
"Oh, please," Tristan waved him off, grinning. "Don't deflect. I saw the kiss. Front-page fireworks. You looked ready to fight the poor guy beside her. What was his name—Jared?"
"Jace," Lucian corrected flatly.
Caliste stifled a chuckle.
"Right, Jace," Tristan said with a sly grin. "You almost broke the poor guy in half with just your eyes. If you're not jealous, you're definitely something."
Lucian leaned back with a smirk. "Keep talking, and I'll start sharing your college stories."
"Touché," Tristan laughed. "But seriously, Caliste," he turned to her with genuine warmth, "he used to be a robot. It's nice seeing him act like a person. You've clearly got him wrapped around your finger."
Caliste smiled, a little awkward. "I don't know about that…"
Lucian glanced at her, and for a second, something flickered in his expression—unspoken but telling.
Tristan raised an eyebrow, catching it. "Interesting," he murmured under his breath.
Then he stood up, grabbing his jacket. "I'll leave you two lovebirds to your… wine and tension. But next time, Lucian—try not to break character so fast. People are starting to think you actually care."
Lucian rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips. "Get lost, Tristan."
With a wink, Tristan disappeared into the crowd.
Caliste looked at Lucian curiously. "You two are… different."
Lucian glanced sideways at her. "He's the annoying little brother I never asked for. But he's decent."
"Decent enough to tease you in public. That's rare."
Lucian turned to her, resting his elbow on the table, his fingers lightly brushing hers on instinct. "I don't usually let people get close enough to tease me."
The comment hung in the air.
Caliste bit her lip. "Then why am I allowed?"
Lucian held her gaze. "Because you're different."
Her breath caught, and for the first time in a long while, she didn't pull her hand away.