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"In lumen et lumen.It's Latin for ‘In the light, of the light.’ Something my dad used to say to me and my brother, that we should always strive to live in the light and be of the light. It's always been a kind of guiding mantra for me."

I cock my head and smile. "You never told me your name," I say, holding out a hand. "I'm Eve."

"Sebastian," he says automatically, bringing his hand to mine.

When our palms touch, a shock of electricity shoots through my arm and into me, and my eyes widen. So do his, or maybe I'm imagining it.

"Well, Sebastian, it was a pleasure meeting you tonight. I just have one more question for you before we part ways."

"And what's that, Eve?"

"What's your light? Do you know?"

* * *

He might still be back there, ponderingmy question, or watching me walk away. I don't know, because I refuse to look. Back straight, chest up, I am confident and smart and I am not blowing a potential job for a cute face. Besides, no way am I ready to date after my last shitfest of a relationship. I'm happy enough single.

I stick to my resolve. I don't look back.

But I won't lie, my fingers are itching to draw him again.

And to touch him.

But I shove that inappropriate thought aside and continue on.

On the way to the office, a meow interrupts my thoughts, and I pause and kneel to give an orange tabby some love. The cat pushes against my hand, purring and demanding affection, which I'm happy to accommodate. I always have time for cats, and they always seem to have time for me.

I arrive at my destination after a five-minute walk, the tabby following me until I reach the front door. It's a tall glass and steel office building with blacked out windows and no sign other than the address. Very mysterious.

When I walk in, the mystery only deepens. The front lobby is a blend of modern and zen. Clean lines, minimalistic décor, everything in beige and white. The wall behind the receptionist's desk draws my eye—an indoor waterfall flowing over stone. A man and woman, both unnaturally beautiful, both dressed in black, sit behind the desk typing on sleek computers. They look up simultaneously when I walk over, and I'm struck by their matching hazel eyes set against their dark amber skin. Even their bone structure is similar, and before I can stop myself, I blurt out, "Are you twins?"

They each nod once, briefly, and then the woman asks, "How can I help you?"

I recognize her voice from the phone call. "I'm Eve Oliver. I have an interview right now."

I don't give more details because I don't have more details to give.

She frowns, then taps a small silver device on her ear. "She's here." She nods. "Have a seat. They will be with you shortly."

I pick a spot close to the front desk so I can do some sleuthing and see if I can find out more about this company. It occurs to me I should try asking. "Excuse me?"

The two look up in unison and my heart lurches at the familiarity of that synchronized connection one can only have with a twin.

"What does this company do exactly? What position am I applying for?" I feel stupid asking, but I'll feel even more stupid going into the meeting knowing nothing.

"They will tell you what you need to know during the interview," the woman says. I still haven't heard the guy speak.

"You can't give me any info?" I ask, perplexed. "A brochure, maybe? Website URL? Anything?"

She gives one curt shake of her head and then returns to her computer.

I sigh, give up, and pull out my sketchbook. I take a deep breath and quiet my mind, closing my eyes, letting stress and worry flow off of me like water. It doesn't take long for my attention to return to Sebastian. I envision every detail that I can recall. The different shades of green in his eyes. The aristocratic slope of his nose. His smooth brow and sharp cheekbones. I don't open my eyes as I sketch. Sometimes drawing blind helps me hold the vision.

I don't know how long it takes me to finish, but when I open my eyes, I'm staring into his. Well, not really his, but his likeness on my paper. Even in charcoal and pencil he's breathtaking, and I'm ridiculous, lusting after my own drawing. I close my sketchbook and check the time, shocked to see I've already been here over an hour.

"Excuse me," I say, drawing the attention of two sets of impatient hazel eyes. "My interview was some time ago. Do you know how much longer I'll be waiting?"

"Until they call you up," she says, unhelpfully.