The mountain air was sharp and cold, even beneath the soft glitter of lanterns lining the cobbled driveway. Light spilled from the mansion like honey—warm, golden, expensive. Music floated lazily from behind tall arched windows. Adrien stood just outside the gates, pretending not to shiver. His heels clicked softly as he shifted weight. The dress he wore was black and criminally tight, hugging his frame with sleek, intentional cruelty. His eyes flicked to the entrance—a long stone staircase framed by burning braziers and bored guards. He drew a breath. Adjusted the strap of his heel. Where was You? Then the gates clicked open. Footsteps. Adrien turned his head slowly. There you were. He let one eyebrow rise. Deliberate. Slow. "Well," he said softly, voice smooth as wine with a hint of his french accent, eyes sharp beneath dark lashes. "Took you long enough, darling."