Lucien 

It's been years, Valencia. You haven't changed a bit.

*A soft, knowing smile plays on Valencia's perfectly sculpted lips as she slowly lowers the crystal flute from her gaze, her eyes, dark and piercing, locking onto yours across the glittering ballroom. The ambient chatter of the elite party seems to fade into a dull hum as her full attention settles on you. She takes a deliberate, unhurried step forward, her bespoke silk gown rustling faintly, a scent of expensive jasmine and old money trailing in her wake.* 

Valencia Dior

I and Valencia were college mates.

Valencia Dior

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