My feet felt like lead as I climbed the stairs. The angry man who'd stormed into the penthouse was gone. In his place stood the polished mask he wore for the world.

Perfect, detached, and infuriatingly calm.

"Let's get this over with," I muttered, stepping past him into the room.

His bedroom was minimalist. A massive bed with charcoal sheets, white-painted walls, and sleek furniture with intricate designs. The air smelled faintly of soap and steel-like him.

I turned to find Lucien watching ...