From the armchair by the hearth, a man rose with fluid grace. He was all sharp lines and disarming charm golden hair falling neatly over a brow that framed piercing ash-gray eyes. His very presence seemed to tilt the room toward him, as if invisible strings drew attention wherever he stood.
A glass of whiskey lingered in his hand as he approached, the faintest curve of a smile playing on his lips.
"Hello there, Lucien. You're positively evil for slipping into the States without telling me. I had to find out through… less direct means."
Lucien's expression hardened, though not unkindly. "How did you get in here, Alexander?"
The golden-haired man's eyes flickered toward Kade and the other guards near the doorway. As if on cue, they lowered their gazes not in guilt exactly, but in reluctant acknowledgment.
Alexander chuckled softly, savoring the moment before he spoke.
"Oh, come now, don't glare at them like that. It wasn't their fault… entirely." He took a measured sip of whiskey. "You see, I'm very good at convincing people I belong somewhere it's practically an art form. I walked in as though I owned the place, and, well, when you look like you belong, no one dares to ask why."
He tilted his head toward the guards again, his tone still playful but edged with sly amusement.
"Of course, if your men had been exceptionally diligent, I wouldn't be here to greet you. But then, I've always found that the best security is one that knows when to step aside for a friend."
The room hung in a delicate balance between tension and familiarity the kind only old friends could share.
Lucien sighed, a faint smirk tugging at his lips despite himself. "Still the same as ever, I see."
"And yet," Alexander replied, raising his glass, "somehow better."
Lucien ascended the sweeping staircase with that same calculated stride that seemed to silence a room without a word. His eyes were fixed forward, his presence radiating authority. Kade trailed at his side, posture rigid, while Alexander followed a few steps behind, his voice filling the space like the hum of a persistent wasp.
"You know," Alexander began in that smooth, infuriatingly amused tone, "I think this place has character. It's warm, inviting very homey. Almost a shame you're ruining the mood by looking like someone just insulted your tailor."
Lucien didn't look back.
"Kade," he said, his voice like cold steel, "fire every single one of those security men. Hire new ones. This time, make sure they're competent. As for you…" His gaze cut briefly to Kade, a silent weight behind it. "Your punishment will be… appropriate."
Kade inclined his head in silence, halting his steps as Lucien continued forward.
Alexander, however, caught up with an easy grin. "Fire them? Come now, isn't that a bit dramatic? What have they done?" He lifted a finger as if counting. "Well, yes… they're incompetent. And yes, they're clueless. And yes, you could have been killed thanks to their breathtaking display of negligence… but hardly a reason to fire the poor chaps."
Lucien stopped and turned just enough for his sharp blue eyes to lock on Alexander. "Your sarcasm is as tiresome as it is predictable."
Alexander's grin only widened, his tone mockingly affronted. "Predictable? I'll have you know I'm a master of spontaneous wit."
By the time they reached Lucien's private suite, Alexander was still talking. "Let's go out for a drink. Or something. We haven't seen each other in what, months?"
"It was a week," Lucien replied flatly, stepping inside.
Alexander followed him in anyway, leaning against the doorframe. "Don't you have a girlfriend to keep you entertained?"
A shadow of a smile flickered on Alexander's lips, though his voice dipped softer. "Oh, Julia… She left. Said I was 'too cheerful'… and 'too caring.' Can you believe it? Apparently she prefers stern men. Someone like you, perhaps."
Lucien removed his watch, placing it on the dresser with deliberate care. "And that is exactly why I don't put much trust in relationships. They're rubbish. Illusions for people who can't face reality."
Alexander clutched his chest theatrically. "Hold on, old man. I can find another woman in minutes. Look at me. I am, after all, a goddess's dream in human form. And what about Aaliyah? The two of you are practically together."
Lucien's smile this time was slow, deliberate, and far from warm. "Aaliyah and I both know exactly what we're doing. It's not for that nonsense you call love."
Alexander groaned. "And here I am bored, heartbroken, and in desperate need of strong alcohol. You really are no help. Come on, let's go. I'm frustrated and my evening needs saving."
Lucien glanced at him from the corner of his eye, his tone cutting as ever. "You're always frustrated, Alexander. That's why you talk so much."
Lucien glanced at Alexander, a faint smirk on his face.
"I've got something to take care of first," he said, adjusting the cuff of his black shirt.
Alexander arched a brow, mock suspicion in his voice.
"As long as it's not another one of your mysterious disappearances, fine. But you owe me a drink afterward."
Lucien's lips curled faintly. "Deal."
"Good," Alexander replied, clapping him lightly on the shoulder. "But if you ditch me again, I'm sending the cops after you." He grinned, but there was a knowing glint in his eyes.
Three hours later…
The evening lights of Washington glimmered through the car windows as Lucien stepped back into Alexander's waiting vehicle.
"All set?" Alexander asked.
Lucien nodded. "Let's go."
Alexander leaned forward to the driver. "Ridgeway Lounge, take the scenic route." Then, turning to Lucien, "You'll like this place."
Fifteen minutes later, the car slowed in front of a warmly lit restaurant. Lucien glanced at the sign, his brow creasing slightly.
"I thought we were going for drinks," he remarked.
Alexander grinned like a man who'd been caught in a harmless lie. "We are. But first… I'm starving. We'll eat, drink, and" he winked, lowering his voice "maybe find some company for the night."
Lucien exhaled through his nose, shaking his head as they walked toward the entrance. "Some things never change."
Inside, warm jazz floated through the air, blending with the hum of quiet conversations and the clink of glasses. Waiters in white shirts and black aprons glided between tables, balancing trays of wine and steaming dishes.
They were shown to a booth near the far end of the room. The leather seats creaked as Lucien slid in, facing the entrance. Alexander sat opposite him, already reaching for the menu.
A waiter appeared, poised and professional. "Good evening, gentlemen. May I start you off with something to drink?"
Alexander glanced at Lucien. "You first."
"Scotch. Neat," Lucien said. His voice was low, deliberate.
"Same for me," Alexander added, before turning to study the menu.
Across the room, a young woman sat alone at a corner table. She had a glass of red wine in hand, her dark hair spilling over one shoulder. She wasn't talking to anyone just quietly eating, the faintest trace of a guarded smile on her lips.
Lucien's gaze flicked to her briefly as the waiter stepped away. Something he wasn't sure what made him look again.
She noticed.
For a moment, their eyes met. It wasn't a lingering stare just a passing acknowledgment. But in that second, something unspoken crossed between them: curiosity… and perhaps the faintest spark of recognition, though Lucien couldn't place from where.
Zikora though he didn't yet know her name broke eye contact first, taking a slow sip of her wine, her gaze shifting back to her plate as if nothing had happened.
Alexander didn't notice, still absorbed in deciding between steak or seafood. "You know," he said, "this place has the best oysters in the city. Good for stamina." He smirked.
Lucien's eyes lingered a moment longer on the woman in the corner before finally turning back to the menu. "I'll take your word for it."
Zikora rose from her chair, excusing herself politely before making her way toward the door. Lucien's gaze lingered not with longing, but with the kind of measured attention one reserves for an unsolved puzzle. She didn't look back, but something in the steady rhythm of her steps and the quiet self-assurance in her posture caught his eye.
Across the table, Alexander was sawing into a perfectly seared piece of fish, his plate already half-cleared. "See?" he said with a mouth half-full, gesturing at his own plate with his fork. "I told you the oysters here were good. You're enjoying it, right?"
When Lucien didn't answer immediately, Alexander's brow lifted. He followed Lucien's gaze toward the retreating figure of Zikora, then smirked knowingly. "Romeo," he teased under his breath, leaning back in his chair.
Lucien's eyes shifted back to him, unamused. "Curiosity isn't romance."
"Mm-hmm," Alexander murmured, clearly unconvinced. He wiped his hands on a linen napkin and leaned forward, lowering his voice to a more deliberate tone. "Anyway… since we're here, there's something I need you to see. The board approved the restructuring proposal but there's a catch. They want to consolidate the eastern assets before we proceed."
Lucien reached for his wine glass, eyes flicking briefly toward the door before focusing entirely on Alexander. "That'll affect more than just the numbers. It'll shift loyalty."
"Exactly why I brought it up." Alexander tilted his head, his expression sharpening into the keen, calculating mask he wore during negotiations. "If we move too fast, we lose stability. If we move too slow, the competitors will"
" smell the hesitation," Lucien finished for him. He set down his glass. "We won't give them the satisfaction. Prepare the list of holdings. We'll decide what stays and what goes."
Alexander smirked faintly. "So the strategist wakes up."
Lucien arched an eyebrow. "He never sleeps."
Alexander chuckled, leaning back in his chair as the faint clink of cutlery and low hum of conversation filled the restaurant.
"Look at us," he said with a wry smile, swirling the last sip of wine in his glass. "We came here to eat, but somehow ended up talking about business."
Lucien gave a faint shrug, his tone measured. "It's inevitable when the person across the table is trying to secure half the city's new contracts."
Alexander smirked, resting his elbow casually on the table. "And the other half is already under your name. Which reminds me what's your real plan with the Brookstone deal? I've heard whispers, and I know better than to believe the polite version."
Lucien didn't answer immediately. He adjusted the cuff of his sleeve, gaze briefly drifting toward the doorway where Zikora had disappeared minutes earlier, before returning to Alexander. "Whispers are just that noise. The real plan… will speak for itself when it's ready."
Alexander raised a brow, amused. "Ah, the mysterious Lucien Moon. Always making people wait for the reveal." He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice. "Just don't keep me waiting too long. Some of us enjoy being on the inside of the storm before it breaks."
Lucien allowed himself the faintest smile. "And some of us prefer to watch who gets caught in it."
For a moment, the air between them was heavy with unspoken competition friendly on the surface, but sharpened by ambition. The waiter passed by to refill their glasses, momentarily breaking the tension.
Alexander lifted his drink. "To unexpected conversations."
Lucien clinked his glass lightly. "And to knowing exactly when to stop talking."
They drank, but Alexander's grin didn't fade.
Alexander and Lucien were already on their feet, buttoning their suit jackets as they left the warm glow of the restaurant's chandeliers behind. The valet stepped forward, opening the rear door of the sleek black sedan waiting at the curb.
They slid in, and the quiet hum of the engine filled the space as the driver eased them onto the road. The faint scent of leather and cedar cologne lingered in the car. Lucien's gaze wandered idly through the tinted window until something caught his attention ahead a familiar figure standing by the roadside.
Zikora.
Her car hood was propped open, the engine coughing and sputtering with each desperate attempt to start. She stood with her phone in hand, scanning the road like she was hoping for a miracle. Lucien's brows knit slightly, his voice firm but low.
"Stop the car," he instructed.
The driver eased to a slow halt, but Alexander glanced at him with mild confusion.
"Why?" Alexander asked, leaning slightly to follow Lucien's line of sight.
Lucien didn't answer immediately. His eyes remained fixed ahead as another figure approached Zikora from across the street. The man was tall, dressed in a dark blazer, and walked with a confident familiarity.
Zikora's expression shifted her shoulders dropped in relief as the man reached her, as if she had been waiting for him all along.
Lucien's jaw tightened. "Never mind. Keep going."
The driver pulled forward, and the scene behind them slipped away in the rearview mirror.
On the roadside, the man spoke first.
"Oh, hey, Lawrence," Zikora greeted warmly, her tone light but carrying a genuine hint of gratitude. "What are you doing here?"
"Well," Lawrence replied, his hands casually resting in his pockets, "the meeting I was supposed to attend got rescheduled. I thought I'd circle back in case you were still around. Guess I timed it right." He gave her a faint, knowing smile.
"Thank goodness you came back," she sighed, gesturing toward her car. "It was fine all day, and now suddenly it's being so difficult. I have no idea what's wrong."
Lawrence stepped closer to the car, glancing at the engine before looking back at her. "Maybe I can give you a ride instead. My car's just across the street."
Zikora hesitated for a moment, glancing toward her stalled vehicle before meeting his eyes again. "Really? That would… actually be a huge help. Thank you."
He smiled faintly, a gentlemanly reassurance in his tone. "It's no trouble at all. I wouldn't feel right leaving you stranded here."
She gave a small nod, almost as if still weighing the thought, then allowed a faint smile to return.
Lawrence tilted his head toward the direction of his car. "Come on, let's get you out of here. We can deal with your car later it's just a machine, but you… well, you shouldn't be stuck on the roadside at night."
They crossed the street together, the air between them threaded with a subtle familiarity one that lingered long after they were gone from the spot where Lucien's car had passed.