LUCIEN
I stared at the empty space where she had just been kneeling, my fingers drumming once and again, against the armrest.
Elise.
Her face flashed in my mind—those wide, trusting eyes that had looked at me with something dangerously close to something I did not want to name.
My mind dwelt on how she always said my name with venom, and how I hoped daily to have her fingers tangled in my hair and in my shirt, as if I were her only anchor in a storm that I had unwittingly dragged her into by my involvement.
To be fair, she reached out first.
And now he was mad, so mad, that fool named Damien. After the atrocities he had committed against the woman.
He had no right to anger. He had no right to frame her for Plagiarism. Or mental instability. Or even an Affair.
Damien had no right t
