After walking me safely to the front door, Lucian turned to leave. I didn’t fully understand the sudden emptiness that washed over me, or why the thought of him walking away made my chest tighten.“Lucian,” I called.He stopped and looked back. Those stunning eyes found mine again, steady and warm in the bright afternoon light.“Yes, Eleanor?”“Would you… like a glass of water? As a thank-you. Before you go.”A soft smile curved his mouth. “Yes, please.”He followed me inside. I gestured toward the living-room couch, and he sat while I poured him a glass from the kitchen. When I handed it to him, his fingers brushed mine for the briefest second—warm, steady, almost reassuring.“Thank you,” he said. “You’re very sweet.”“You’re welcome.”He glanced around the room, taking in the soft light spilling through the windows and the quiet order of our home. “You have a beautiful house.”“Thank you.” I hesitated, then added quickly, almost shyly, “Don’t leave just yet. I’ll be right back.”I
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