Chapter Text
Lily first met Bianca at a charity auction in Milan three years ago.
Louis had sent her in his place.
He’d been “unavoidably detained,” which in Louis language meant he did not want to attend something. Lily went because she enjoyed beautiful venues and wealthy people pretending to care about art.
Bianca had been standing beside a Basquiat knockoff, quietly telling a man twice her age that if he intended to bid on it, he should at least learn how to pronounce the artist’s name correctly.
Lily had laughed.
Bianca had looked at her.
And that was that.
They started meeting whenever Lily was in Europe. No scheduling drama. No forced effort. Just a quiet understanding.
Paris this time.
A late morning café in the 6th arrondissement. Sunlight warm, winter-soft. The kind of place with tiny tables and very good coffee.
Bianca was already seated when Lily arrived, immaculate as always. Cream coat. Dark hair pulled back. Expression serene.
“You’re late,” Bianca said without heat.
“I’m on vacation,” Lily replied, kissing her cheek. “Time is fake.”
They ordered champagne with their coffee. Because they could.
Because they liked to.
They talked first about neutral things, art acquisitions, a disaster of a gala in Berlin, Louis’ move to Paris.
“Next month,” Lily said, stirring her coffee. “He already bought the apartment. Of course he did.”
Bianca dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “Which arrondissement.”
Lily named it.
A small pause.
Bianca took a sip of coffee. Casual. Almost bored.
“Oh. I have a friend who lives very close to there.”
Lily looked up.
“Close how.”
“Walking distance.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Six, perhaps seven minutes.”
Lily blinked slowly.
“In Paris terms that’s practically a shared mailbox.”
Bianca gave the faintest smile. “It is a pleasant area.”
“Who’s your friend.”
Bianca set her cup down carefully. “Armand.”
Lily searched her memory. The name was familiar, she’d heard it before, mentioned in passing during previous visits. Art things. Foundation galas. Cultural circles.
“The director?” Lily asked.
“Yes.”
“The… intimidating one?”
Bianca tilted her head. “He is not intimidating.”
“You say that because you’re immune.”
“He is precise.”
“That’s European for intimidating.”
Bianca ignored that. “He purchased the building five years ago. Restored it. Lives on the top floor.”
“Of course he does,” Lily muttered.
There was something about the way Bianca said his name. Not romantic. Not dramatic. Just steady. Familiar.
Lily leaned back in her chair.
“How old.”
“Forty-five.”
Lily’s eyebrows lifted slightly.
“Single?”
Bianca glanced at her over the rim of her cup.
“Yes.”
“How single.”
Bianca considered the question as if evaluating a contract.
“He has not been in a serious relationship.”
“Ever?”
“Not in adulthood.”
Lily went quiet.
“Does he date casually?” Lily asked.
“Rarely.”
“Why.”
Bianca’s expression shifted, just slightly softer.
“He says most people are inefficient with emotion.”
Lily laughed under her breath.
“Oh my god.”
“What.”
“Louis says most people are reckless with attachment.”
Bianca went still.
They looked at each other.
Not joking now.
Not teasing.
Assessing.
Lily felt it then — not fate, not romance — but the shape of a possibility forming quietly in her mind.
“What does he like,” Lily asked carefully.
Bianca didn’t smile this time. She understood the shift.
“Discipline,” she said. “Intelligence. Stability. He dislikes unpredictability.”
Lily’s mind was already moving.
“And socially?”
“He attends what he must. Avoids what he can. Prefers small rooms to large ones.”
Lily smiled.
“What does he do for fun.”
Bianca actually paused.
“He reads. Collects art. Walks. Occasionally plays the piano when he thinks no one can hear.”
Lily’s stomach flipped slightly at that. Something about the image.
“Is he…” She hesitated. “Difficult?”
Bianca’s lips curved faintly. “Yes.”
Lily grinned. “Good.”
Silence stretched between them again, but this time it was charged.
Lily stared out at the street, watching a couple argue softly over directions.
“Louis is moving for business,” she said, but her tone suggested she was reconsidering that narrative in real time.
“Yes.” Bianca replied smoothly.
“And Armand has lived there for years.”
“Yes.”
“And they’re both single.”
“Yes.”
“And neither of them is actively looking.”
“No.”
Lily turned back to her slowly.
“Does Armand want to be single.”
That made Bianca think.
She didn’t answer immediately.
“I believe,” Bianca said finally, “he has accepted it.”
Accepted.
Lily hated that word.
She thought of Louis standing alone at windows. Louis declining invitations. Louis insisting he was “fine.”
A thought clicked into place so clearly it almost startled her.
“Show me,” she said.
Bianca studied her.
“You’re considering something.”
“I’m evaluating proximity.”
Bianca’s eyes warmed just slightly. “Of course you are.”
“Armand is not dating anyone,” Lily asked plainly.
“No.”
“Seeing anyone.”
“No.”
“Emotionally entangled with someone he refuses to define.”
“Not to my knowledge.”
Lily inhaled slowly.
Six minutes walking distance.
Two men who had built their lives on control.
Two men who had never allowed anything to destabilize them.
Bianca watched the idea fully form behind Lily’s eyes.
“You’re thinking,” she said.
“Yes.”
“It will not be simple.”
“I don’t need simple.”
Bianca leaned back.
“What do you need.”
Lily smiled slowly.
“Photographs.”
Bianca did not hesitate.
She reached for her phone.
⸻
3:07 AM — Lily 🥂
Lily 🥂:
Are you awake
Louis:
It is three in the morning.
Lily 🥂:
So yes.
Louis:
What is wrong.
Lily 🥂:
Nothing is wrong. Something is RIGHT actually.
Louis:
If this is about cryptocurrency again, I am blocking you.
Lily 🥂:
182 cm.
Louis:
I’m sorry?
Lily 🥂:
Paris-based.
Director of a contemporary arts foundation.
Owns property within walking distance of your new apartment.
Louis:
Are you unwell.
Lily 🥂:
Speaks French, English, Italian, and something else pretentious.
Never married.
No public scandals.
Never been in a serious relationship.
Louis:
Lily.
Lily 🥂:
Rich.
Louis:
Stop.
Lily 🥂:
Richer than you.
(Typing bubble disappears. Reappears.)
Louis:
That seems unlikely.
Lily 🥂:
You’re deflecting.
Louis:
I am attempting to understand why you are sending me a census report.
Lily 🥂:
Because you’re moving to Paris.
And you refuse to download dating apps.
And you “don’t have time.”
And you’re 30-something and terrifying.
Louis:
I’m thirty.
Lily 🥂:
Exactly.
Louis:
Delete my number.
Lily 🥂:
He’s beautiful.
Louis:
So?
(Three images sent.)
— Photo 1: Armand in a black suit at a gallery opening.
— Photo 2: Armand mid-sentence, profile sharp, eyes unreadable.
— Photo 3: A rare candid — faint smile, softer.
(Read.)
(Typing bubble. Stops. Starts again.)
Louis:
Who took these.
Lily 🥂:
Focus.
Louis:
Is this a blind date.
Lily 🥂:
It’s an opportunity.
Louis:
I did not request one.
Lily 🥂:
You never request anything emotional. That’s the problem.
(Pause.)
Louis:
Name.
Lily 🥂:
HAHA
Louis:
Full name.
(Three dots appear. Disappear. Reappear.)
Lily 🥂:
Armand.
Louis:
Surname.
Lily 🥂:
You’re already googling him.
Louis:
Surname.
Lily 🥂:
You’re not even pretending not to be interested.
Louis:
I am conducting due diligence.
Lily 🥂:
You’re insane.
Louis:
Surname.
(Long pause.)
Lily 🥂:
…If I tell you, you are not allowed to pretend this didn’t intrigue you.
Louis:
This conversation did not intrigue me.
Lily 🥂:
Liar.
(Pause.)
Lily 🥂:
Armand De Romanus.
(Seen.)
(Typing bubble. Stops. Starts again.)
Louis:
Send one more photo.
Lily 🥂:
I KNEW IT.
Louis:
One where he is not aware of the camera.
(Another image sent. Armand laughing, head slightly tilted, sunlight catching his face.)
(Long pause.)
Lily 🥂:
Well?
Louis:
What does he know about this.
Lily 🥂:
Nothing.
Louis:
Good.
Lily 🥂:
So you’re open to—
Louis:
I did not say that.
Lily 🥂:
You asked for his full name.
Louis:
For research purposes.
Lily 🥂:
You are so deeply single it’s painful.
Louis:
If this is some elaborate matchmaking scheme—
Lily 🥂:
It’s not elaborate. It’s destiny.
Louis:
Do not use that word.
(Pause.)
Lily 🥂:
He’s moving in your area.
You’re moving in his.
You both hate inefficiency.
You both intimidate everyone you date.
Just… dinner.
(Typing bubble.)
Louis:
Does he know you are selling him like an investment portfolio.
Lily 🥂:
Not yet.
Louis:
Do not inform him that I have seen these.
Lily 🥂:
Oh my god.
Louis:
If I agree to meet him, it will be incidental.
Lily 🥂:
You’re agreeing.
Louis:
I am considering.
Lily 🥂:
Same thing.
(Pause.)
Louis:
What is his height without shoes.
Lily 🥂:
I’m hanging up
⸻
Bianca does not text Armand at 3AM.
She could.
She absolutely could.
She is still awake when Lily leaves the café. Still awake when she reaches her hotel. Still awake when the city goes quiet.
But Armand does not tolerate disruption.
Not of his sleep.
Not of his schedule.
Not of the small rituals that keep his life aligned.
He wakes at the same time every morning.
He makes coffee the same way.
Answers emails in the same order.
Reads the news before speaking to anyone.
Bianca knows this.
She has known him long enough to understand that interrupting his sleep would not make him angry.
It would make him distant.
And distance, once created, is tedious to undo.
So she waits.
⸻
Morning in Paris arrives slowly.
Bianca is already home when the sun lifts properly over the rooftops. She sets her phone on the kitchen counter and watches the clock.
8:03 AM — too early. He’ll still be in the quiet part of his morning.
8:17 — he will be reading.
8:32 — coffee finished. Inbox open.
8:45 — acceptable.
She picks up her phone.
Types.
Deletes.
Types again.
She does not dramatize it.
She simply sends:
Bianca:
Are you awake.
She knows he is.
Three dots appear almost immediately.
Armand:
Yes.
Of course.
He is already dressed. Already composed. Already operating.
She imagines him in his apartment — light filtering through tall windows, sleeves perfectly pressed, expression neutral.
She allows herself a small smile.
Now.
Now she can disrupt him.
Bianca:
Good. I require consent.
Armand:
For what.
Bianca:
Can I send you a picture of someone.
Armand:
Who.
Bianca:
A man.
Armand:
Why.
Bianca:
He’s moving to Paris.
Armand:
Many people are.
Bianca:
He is interesting.
Armand:
Define interesting.
Bianca:
Intelligent. Wealthy. Intolerant of mediocrity. Emotionally unavailable but in a structured way.
Armand:
Bianca.
Bianca:
Yes.
Armand:
No.
Bianca:
You haven’t seen him.
Armand:
I do not need to see him.
Bianca:
Really.
Armand:
Really.
(Typing bubble appears.)
Bianca:
That’s unfortunate.
Armand:
Why.
Bianca:
Because I already sent him a picture of you.
(Seen.)
(Long pause.)
Armand:
Bianca.
Bianca:
Yes?
Armand:
What did you just say.
Bianca:
Relax.
Armand:
You sent a stranger my photo.
Bianca:
He’s not a stranger. He’s vetted.
Armand:
By whom.
Bianca:
By me.
Armand:
That does not reassure me.
Bianca:
You’re overreacting.
Armand:
Am I.
Bianca:
Yes.
Armand:
Bianca.
Bianca:
What.
Armand:
Delete it.
Bianca:
Too late.
Armand:
Bianca.
Bianca:
He asked for your full name.
(Pause.)
Armand:
He what.
Bianca:
Full name. Calmly. Like a background check.
Armand:
I dislike this.
Bianca:
You dislike everything.
Armand:
This is inappropriate.
Bianca:
He’s beautiful.
Armand:
Irrelevant.
Bianca:
No, objectively. It’s distracting.
Armand:
I do not care.
Bianca:
You haven’t seen him.
Armand:
I do not need to.
Bianca:
Oh.
(Pause.)
Bianca:
So you hate me.
Armand:
What.
Bianca:
Because I find you a potential husband and you reject my efforts. It’s hurtful.
Armand:
You are not hurt.
Bianca:
I am fragile.
Armand:
You are not fragile.
Bianca:
Emotionally. Deeply.
Armand:
Bianca.
Bianca:
He owns half of New Orleans. He’s expanding into Paris. He’s single.
(Pause.)
Bianca:
You’re single.
(Typing bubble. Stops.)
Armand:
That is by choice.
Bianca:
Is it.
(Long pause.)
Bianca:
Fine. I won’t send it.
(Thirty seconds pass.)
Armand:
…
Bianca:
Yes?
Armand:
If you have already compromised my privacy, you may as well complete the offense.
Bianca:
So that’s a yes.
Armand:
Send it.
Bianca:
You don’t sound enthusiastic.
Armand:
Bianca.
Bianca:
Sending.
(Photo 1: Louis in a dark suit, expression sharp, composed.)
(Photo 2: Louis seated at a conference table, sleeves rolled, watch visible.)
(Photo 3: A candid — Louis looking out a window, softened by light.)
(Seen.)
(Long silence.)
Bianca:
Well?
(Typing bubble appears. Disappears. Appears again.)
Armand:
Height.
Bianca:
I KNEW IT.
Armand:
Height.
Bianca:
175 cm.
Armand:
Occupation.
Bianca:
Capitalist menace.
Armand:
Bianca.
Bianca:
Real estate firm. Expanding into Paris. Disciplined. Slight control issues.
Armand:
Control issues.
Bianca:
You’d like him.
Armand:
Do not presume.
Bianca:
He asked for your full name.
(Pause.)
Armand:
Did he.
Bianca:
Immediately.
(Long silence.)
Bianca:
You’re intrigued.
Armand:
I am evaluating.
Bianca:
Same thing.
Armand:
Do not arrange anything.
Bianca:
Of course not.
(Beat.)
Bianca:
But if you happened to bump into him…
Armand:
Bianca.
Bianca:
Incidental proximity.
Armand:
You are intolerable.
Bianca:
You’re welcome.