Julian's POV
I balled my hand into a fist and knocked on the door of Richard's study.
"Who is it?" His tone was filled with joy.
"It's me," I said, steadier voice.
"Come in, Julian."
I pushed the door open and walked in. He didn't look up. He continued to sign a stack of documents on his desk.
I didn't wait for him to acknowledge me. "What did you and Lucy talk about? Why did she leave here looking like she'd just won the lottery?"
The scratching stopped. Richard placed the pen down. He finally looked up, his pale eyes catching the light. He leaned back in his leather chair, his fingers steepled under his chin.
"Take a seat, Julian," he said, gesturing to the chair opposite him.
I hesitated. Sitting down felt like a concession. I wanted to remain standing, but I knew Richard—he would sit there in silence until I complied. I pulled the chair out, the legs scraping against the rug, and sat on the very edge.
"Who is Lucy?"
