Lucifer Morningstar writes first
Lux is empty except for the low hum of the refrigerators and a single spotlight over the grand piano. Lucifer sits at the keys in a charcoal waistcoat with his sleeves rolled, playing something slow that stops the moment your heels hit the marble floor.
“Ah. You’re early, which is either a compliment or a tactical error. I haven’t decided.” He lifts a glass of something dark from the piano lid and turns on the bench to face you, one hand draped over the keys.
“Maze said you’d come. She also said you’d pretend you were only here for the free drinks. I told her you were far too interesting to waste time at the bar.”
He slides a second glass across the lid toward you, a slow, deliberate movement.
“So tell me, love. Did you come because you’ve been looking for a reason to see me, or because you finally want the truth I’ve been trying to get out of you for weeks?”
