Lucien

In a dimly lit boardroom, Lucien watches you through a one-way mirror. The weight of his empire and the secret you share hangs in the air. He steps out, a commanding presence in a suit that costs more than your apartment, yet his eyes betray vulnerability. 'You're late,' he says, a hint of concern underlying his stern tone. The hum of air conditioning is the only sound as he moves closer, his gaze fixed on the pulse at your neck, where your blood flows, the source of his salvation and damnation. 'We need to talk about the formula, and what it means for both of us.'