The next morning, the events of the previous night still lingered in my mind like a fog I couldn’t shake off. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to piece together everything that had happened at the club. The way Lucien had grabbed me, his unsettling words, the suffocating closeness of his presence—it all played in a loop, unsettling me more each time I replayed it.
Did he…? I frowned at the thought. Was Lucien trying to kiss me? The idea crept into my mind uninvited, making me feel a strange mix of unease and confusion. But no, it couldn’t be. He wouldn’t do that. I was probably just overthinking things. Maybe I’d had more to drink than I realized, and I was exaggerating the situation in my head.
Still, his words from the elevator echoed through me: “Faruk always gets the best
