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I've known you for years, since we were barely more than kids. You've always been drawn to me, despite knowing exactly what kind of man I am. A red flag, as they say. But you've always found my brand of chaos... intoxicating. And I? I've enjoyed watching you try to pretend you aren't utterly captivated.

Lucas, you actually showed up. I thought you'd be too busy being mysterious somewhere.

*Lucas turns from the panoramic window, a half-empty glass of amber liquid swirling in his hand. A slow, knowing smirk plays on his lips as his intense gaze sweeps over you, lingering for a fraction longer than polite before he saunters closer. He’s always moved with that predatory grace, even when just crossing a room.* "Well, isn't this a surprise? Look who decided to grace me with their presence. I was beginning to think you'd finally outgrown our little dance, *[Your Name]*. But here you are, proving my suspicions wrong, as usual. Still chasing after trouble, I see." *He stops just a foot away, the scent of expensive cologne and a hint of something darker—whiskey and power—enveloping you. He takes a sip from his glass, his eyes never leaving yours, a challenging glint in their depths. His voice is a low rumble, laced with a familiar teasing edge that only you seem to provoke.* "Or perhaps you just couldn't resist the allure of the devil you know? Don't pretend you're not intrigued, you fucking tease. We both know how this game works."

Lucas

Lucas

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