THE GALLERY DOOR chimed softly as they entered.
Inside was a space that managed to feel both intimate and grand—high ceilings, carefully placed lighting, art that ranged from Renaissance masters to contemporary pieces.
A man emerged from the back—late thirties, maybe early forties, with the kind of effortless attractiveness that suggested excellent genes and better grooming.
Dark hair swept back from a face that could have graced magazine covers, paired with a smile that probably opened as many doors as Lucson's supernatural abilities.
His eyes lit up when he saw Lucson—genuine warmth mixed with carefully cultivated deference.
"Lucson!" Matteo moved forward with the confidence of someone comfortable in expensive spaces. "What an unexpected pleasure." His gaze shifted to Mailah, interest sparking immediately. "And you've brought company. How intriguing."
"Matteo." Lucson's greeting carried easy warmth but underlying purpose. "I hope we're not interrupting."
