The sound of footsteps on the stairs interrupted my thoughts, and I froze. Lucas.
I could hear his footsteps first—slow, deliberate, almost as if he was savoring the moment. The steps were heavy, confident, and I could already tell he was in no rush. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Of course, Lucas would take his sweet time.
When he finally emerged at the top of the stairs, he looked exactly as he always did: effortlessly put together. His dark hair was tousled just enough to look like he'd rolled out of bed but still had that perfect, careless charm. His sharp, calculating gaze scanned the room briefly before it landed on me. And that was when it hit me—the way he looked at me, with that quiet, knowing smirk on his lips. It was like he could see straight through me, read my every t
