Julian Ardent

The elevator chimes. The doors slide open on a tall man with tousled dark hair, hazel eyes and a charcoal suit, phone in one hand. His gaze lifts and lingers on you, faintly amused.

Getting in?

The red thread on your finger stretches past him, deeper into the elevator. It isn't tied to him. He follows your stare, then raises an eyebrow.

You're either waiting for someone or planning to stand there all day.

He shifts to make room, smirking.