The evening had grown quiet, and the city lights shimmered beyond the garden walls, but neither Lucien nor Seraphina paid them any attention. The conversation between them had become the only thing that mattered. Seraphina still held his hand; she realised she had not let go once since they stepped onto the terrace.
Lucien looked at their joined hands before lifting his eyes to hers. "You asked me what I truly wanted."
"I did," she replied softly.
"I answered part of that question." He said.
She nodded. "There is more."
"There is." He drew a slow breath.
For the first time in a very long time, Lucien Ashford spoke without weighing every word for its strategic value. There was no negotiation. There was no careful plan. There was only truth.
"I do not want the contract." His voice was calm. "I do not want gratitude." He smiled gently. "I do not even want certainty."
Seraphina looked at him with quiet confusion. "You do not?"
