The car was already waiting.
Anna noticed it before she noticed him.
It sat just beyond the curb, engine quiet, black paint catching the morning light without reflecting it back. No logos she recognized. No flash. Just length and restraint, the kind of vehicle that didn't need to announce itself because it assumed recognition.
She hesitated at the top of the steps.
Behind her, Mia adjusted the strap of her bag for the third time.
"You forgot your charger last time," Mia said softly, slipping it into the side pocket. "And your lip balm—here. You always regret not bringing it."
Anna smiled faintly.
Mia had been there since early morning. Earlier than she needed to be. She'd brought coffee. Laid clothes out on the bed like this wasn't a weekend trip but something that mattered. Helped Anna choose between outfits, rejecting softness, encouraging structure.
"You look more like yourself in this," Mia had said, fingers smoothing the fabric at her waist.
At the time, Anna hadn't argued.
Now, standing at the door, she felt that same careful pressure again—guidance framed as care.
"You trust me, right?" Mia had asked earlier, lightly, almost joking.
Anna had nodded without hesitation.
She still did.
Outside, the rear passenger door opened.
Lucien stepped into view.
He looked different in daylight.
Not younger—if anything, the clarity of the morning sharpened the contrast between him and everything around him. He wore a dark coat, tailored but unshowy, the cut precise enough that Anna felt suddenly aware of her own posture.
He didn't rush toward her.
He waited.
That alone made her heart jump.
"Anna," he said, when she finally moved.
The sound of her name in his voice still startled her. It carried no urgency, no claim—just acknowledgment, warm and even.
"Good morning," she replied.
He smiled faintly. "Did you sleep well?"
She nodded. "I think so."
It wasn't true. But he didn't ask again.
Mia stepped forward then, bright and effortless. "Thank you for coming yourself," she said. "She was a little nervous."
Anna felt a flicker of embarrassment—then relief.
Mia was smoothing things over. As she always did.
Lucien's gaze flicked to Anna, gentle, curious—but not surprised.
"That's understandable," he said. "New environments often feel… unfamiliar at first."
He turned fully to Anna.
"If at any point you'd prefer not to go," he added calmly, "we can reschedule."
The offer was clean.
Too clean.
Anna felt the weight of the choice settle into her chest.
Behind her, Mia's hand rested lightly between her shoulder blades. Supportive. Grounding.
Mia had rearranged her whole morning for this. Had packed her bag. Had stood behind her while she fastened the necklace, steadying her hands.
Mia wouldn't bring her here if it wasn't safe.
She wouldn't.
"It's fine," Anna said. "I want to go."
She heard how firm her own voice sounded—and felt a small, private relief at that firmness.
Lucien inclined his head, as if acknowledging a decision already expected.
He gestured toward the open door.
"After you."
The inside of the car was cool and quiet.
The door closed with a soft, final sound that made something in her stomach tighten. The interior smelled faintly of leather and something else—wood, maybe, or polish. Everything was muted. Cream and black. No clutter. No personal items.
She sat carefully, unsure where to put her hands.
The seat adjusted automatically beneath her, subtle movements responding to her weight. She froze for a moment, then laughed softly at herself.
Lucien watched her, amused but gentle.
"It's just responding to you," he said. "Nothing to worry about."
Just responding to you.
He settled beside her, close enough that she could feel warmth through the space between them, but not touching. The door closed. The driver pulled away from the curb without a sound.
The city began to slide past the window.
Anna stared out at first, watching familiar streets stretch and distort through tinted glass. The sounds outside felt distant now, filtered, as if she were no longer fully part of them.
"This is… different," she said quietly.
Lucien nodded. "Is that uncomfortable?"
She considered the question.
"It's strange," she admitted. "I've never been in a car like this before."
He smiled. "Firsts tend to feel that way."
She nodded, gripping the bottle of water Mia had insisted she bring.
Mia had thought of everything.
She glanced at him. "Did you grow up with this?"
A pause.
"Yes," he said. "More or less."
She sensed there was more he wasn't saying—but his tone invited no elaboration.
The silence returned, heavy but not awkward.
Anna became aware of her body in a way she hadn't been earlier—the way the seat cradled her, the steady hum beneath her feet, the way the world outside no longer demanded her attention.
It felt safe.
Something brushed against the edge of her unease, faint but persistent. The feeling that she had stepped into a space not meant for hesitation.
She shifted slightly.
Lucien noticed immediately.
"Are you comfortable?" he asked.
"Yes," she said, too quickly. Then softer, "I think so."
He watched her for a moment, then reached into the side compartment and produced a small bottle of water, offering it without comment.
She accepted it.
Their fingers didn't touch.
Still, her breath caught.
"Thank you," she said.
"You're welcome."
They rode in silence again.
Minutes passed. Or maybe longer. Time felt different here—compressed, smoothed, like the road beneath them.
Anna's phone buzzed in her bag.
She hesitated before checking it.
A message from Mia.
You're doing great.
Enjoy the ride. I'll be right here if you need anything.
Anna stared at the screen longer than necessary.
A quiet warmth spread through her chest.
Mia was watching out for her. Even now. Even from a distance.
She wouldn't let anything bad happen.
Lucien didn't look at her phone. He didn't ask.
But when she lifted her gaze, his attention was already there.
"Everything alright?" he asked gently.
She nodded. "Yes."
She meant it—or wanted to.
Another pause.
She inhaled, then spoke before she could talk herself out of it.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
She turned toward him fully now.
"I don't know what to call you."
His brow lifted slightly.
She flushed. "I mean—Mr… I realized I don't actually know your family name."
A flicker crossed his expression. Not surprise. Something closer to interest.
"You can call me Lucien," he said.
The name sat between them.
She had heard it before, of course. In her head. In Mia's voice.
But saying it felt different.
She hesitated, then tried it.
"Lucien."
The word felt unfamiliar in her mouth—soft, almost intimate. She expected it to sound awkward.
It didn't.
He responded immediately, turning toward her, his expression warming in a way that made her chest tighten.
"Yes?" he said.
The simple answer sent a quiet shiver through her.
She smiled, a little embarrassed. "I just… wanted to be sure."
"I'm glad you asked," he said. "I prefer honesty."
The car continued forward, smooth and unhurried.
Anna leaned back slightly, the tension easing from her shoulders.
Something was wrong.
She could feel it—like a hairline crack beneath glass. Not enough to break it. Just enough to notice if you looked too closely.
But Mia had helped her. Prepared her. Chosen for her when she couldn't choose for herself.
And Lucien was kind. Everything was careful. Thoughtful. Exactly what she had told herself she wanted.
If she doubted this—doubted them—then what did that say about her judgment?
Maybe the unease was just fear. Old fear. Leftover from loving the wrong person too long.
She closed her eyes briefly as the car moved farther from the city, farther from anything familiar.
When she opened them, Lucien was watching her—not possessively, not intensely.
Just present.