Elena’s fingers tightened on the strap of her bag as she turned toward the door. She had said what she came here to say—thank you—and she wanted nothing more than to retreat before her nerves gave her away.
But before she could take another step, his voice cut through the room.
“Sit.”
It wasn’t loud, but the command carried weight. Something in the way he said it froze her in place. Her stomach fluttered with unease, yet she found herself turning back. Lucian gestured to the chair across from him, a low armchair pulled near the wide window.
Elena hesitated, then obeyed. She slipped her bag from her shoulder and perched on the edge of the seat, her knees pressed together, her hands folded tightly.
Lucian leaned back in his own chair, one arm resting casually on the armrest. He reached
