We move to the couch.
Lucien pours us both water. We sit at opposite ends, shoes off, legs tucked under us like old friends catching up. Not like an escort and his client. Not like two people meeting under transactional circumstances.
Like two humans who accidentally found each other.
"Tell me something about you that has nothing to do with Julian," Lucien says.
I draw a blank. It's pathetic how quickly my mind goes empty.
"I can't think of anything."
"Try harder."
I search through six years of memories, looking for something that's just mine. "I like storms. Thunderstorms specifically. I used to sit on my apartment balcony, before I moved in with Julian, and watch the lightning. The bigger the storm, the better."
"Why?"
"Because it felt honest. No pretense. Just raw power and cha
