I hear it—the soft click of the door opening. My breath stills. I know that sound. Miss, his voice is low, careful. You are still awake. Lucien. I shift under the blankets, turning my head toward the door. He stands there in his usual composed manner, dressed in his butler’s uniform, his posture impeccable even at this hour. But his dark eyes—those unreadable, beautiful eyes—hold something else tonight.
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