The woman's heels clicked furiously as she stormed out of the restaurant, her hair swinging behind her. The glass door shut with a sharp thud, cutting through the murmur of curious whispers that spread through the diners.
That was my cue.
I smoothed down the front of my red dress, adjusted my expression into something halfway between confident and casual, and walked straight toward his table. My heart drummed steadily in my chest.
Lucien Vale.
Up close, he was even more disarming than I'd imagined. Especially with his hair brushed down from wetness. He sat there, completely composed, his jaw tense and his eyes dark and emotionless. A faint line of water traced down the collar of his white shirt, and yet he didn't seem to care.
He was the kind of man who looked in control even when chaos surrounded him.
I slid into the empty chair across from him.
"Got ditched?" I started, keeping my tone light and teasing.
His gaze shifted to me slowly and for a brief moment, I saw confusion flicker behind his eyes—perhaps recognition—before his features hardened. His brows drew together, his jaw clenched, and the calm in his eyes turned cold.
"I'm not interested," he said flatly, his voice deep and husky.
A lesser woman would've shrunk back under that tone. But I only smiled.
"Oh, don't flatter yourself," I replied, resting my elbow on the table and propping my chin against my hand. "I just hate wasting a perfectly good reservation."
His eyes narrowed slightly and I can feel it studying me. He was cautious. The kind of man who'd been approached too many times by people who wanted something from him. Which, of course, I did too. But not in the way he thought.
"Your reservation?" he asked, his tone clipped.
"Mm-hmm." I nodded toward the empty chair and my table. "My husband couldn't make it. Tragic, right? But they won't let me dine alone, and it'd be such a shame to waste good food and good wine."
Lucien's expression didn't change. He simply leaned back, eyes suspicious.
"Are you doing this on purpose?" his jaw twitched his expression remain stoic.
"Doing what?" I asked.
"Approaching me," he said, his words felt like a threat. "I don't have time to be playing games. What does a married woman need in my table."
I let out a soft laugh, tilting my head slightly. "Relax. I just wanted company. It's not a crime, is it?"
He didn't answer right away. His fingers tapped once against the table, slow and thoughtful. Then he looked away, signaling for the waiter with the faintest lift of his hand.
The waiter appeared almost instantly—nervous, as if afraid to linger too close to the person seated in front of him. "Y-yes, sir?"
"Get me a towel," Lucien ordered quietly. The waiter nodded and hurried off.
I watched him in silence for a moment. He didn't seem like the type who lost his temper easily. But I knew he definitely said something rude to the woman for her to storm off like that but I can't say that, can't I?
Then his gaze returned to me, it was sharper this time.
"You don't look like someone who dines here often," he said suddenly.
I blinked, then smiled faintly. "And what does someone who dines here often look like?"
He didn't answer, but his eyes briefly flicked down to my bag, then back to my face. I caught it—his subtle assessment. He noticed everything.
Good.
I wanted him to notice.
"Well," I said, pretending not to care, "if you really mind, I can just move to my table. It's just that... it's a little embarrassing sitting alone after getting stood up."
His jaw tightened slightly. For a moment, I thought he would dismiss me outright.
"Fine," he exhaled quietly, almost inaudibly, and gave a small nod toward the waiter who had just returned.
"I will change table."
The waiter's eyes flicked between us, uncertain, before he nodded and scurried away again.
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling too soon. I can't believe I actually managed to do that. I'm so proud of myself.
"I promise I won't talk too much," I said softly, almost as if offering a truce.
He didn't respond and we just quietly switched tables, the waiter helped us settle in our seat.
His silence was deafening, but I was smart enough to know he wasn't ignoring me on purpose; he was quietly observing.
When the waiter returned with the glass, Lucien reached for the wine bottle himself and poured me half a serving. The crimson liquid shimmered under the restaurant lights.
"Thank you," I said, lifting the glass slightly in his direction before taking a small sip. "So, should I assume this means I've passed the test?"
He raised an eyebrow. "What test?"
"The one you're clearly giving me." I smiled, letting a hint of mischief color my voice. "You were judging me the moment I sat down with you."
Lucien didn't deny it. "People don't approach me without a reason."
"Maybe I'm just not 'people,'" I countered.
That earned me the faintest flicker of amusement in his eyes, though it vanished just as quickly as it appeared.
We fell into silence for a moment. Around us, the clinking of cutlery and low murmurs filled the air, blending into a quiet background hum.
I could feel the tension between us shift—not softer, but less brittle.
I leaned back, letting the dim light catch the edges of my face. "You know," I began, "for someone who just got drenched in front of an audience, you're taking it pretty well."
He didn't look up. "Getting angry would've been a waste of time."
"That's... an interesting philosophy."
"Yeah," he agreed simply, as though there were no further explanation needed.
I studied him quietly. There was something mesmerizing about his calmness. Or maybe I just love strong character because I grew up in that kind of environment.
I admire that kind of control.
"So," I said, trying to start a conversation again, "what did she do to get on your bad side?"
Lucien's hand paused on his glass. "You're assuming she did."
I didn't. I know you did but I was choosing my weapons carefully.
"Didn't she?" I asked innocently.
His eyes lifted to mine. "You seem very interested."
"I'm sitting across from a man who just got water thrown at him by a woman shouting at the top of her lungs," I replied with a shrug. "I think anyone would be interested."
Lucien's expression didn't soften, but his silence was less cutting this time.
He finally spoke, voice quiet but steady. "She was testing my patience. I don't have much of it left tonight."
"Then it's lucky you met me," I said, smiling faintly. "I'm very low-maintenance."
His lips pressed together in something that almost looked like a suppressed smirk, though it vanished before I could confirm it.
For a while, we just ate. The conversation drifted to safer ground—mundane topics like the wine, the food, the faint music playing in the background. Not much different to conversation I would get when I was still a royalty.
"Lucien Vale," I said finally, breaking the silence.
His eyes snapped to me instantly. "You remembered me."
"Everyone knows you," I said smoothly, swirling the wine in my glass. "You're not exactly inconspicuous."
Something in his expression changed.
"And you are?"
I met his gaze, letting the faintest smile tug at my lips. I'm very aware you recognize me.
"Just someone who appreciates good food and better company."
He leaned back, studying me again. "You're a terrible liar."
"Maybe," I admitted, setting my glass down gently.
He didn't reply, but the look in his eyes lingered, heavy and unreadable.
Good. Let him wonder.
After all, mystery was the best kind of bait.
The rest of the evening passed in a strange rhythm. We talked, but not too much. Shared a meal that neither of us seemed particularly hungry for. And when the check came, he didn't even glance at me before taking it.
"I'll pay," he said simply.
"You don't have to—" I started, but he cut me off with a quiet look that silenced me instantly.
"It's fine," he said, sliding his card across the table.
The waiter took it and hurried off.
When Lucien's gaze returned to me, his tone was serious. "You shouldn't approach strangers like that. Not everyone will take it as lightly as I did."
I smiled faintly. "Are you saying you took it lightly?"
"I'm saying," he said slowly, "you're lucky."
Lucky. I almost laughed.
If only he knew, I created that luck myself.
"Maybe I just have good instincts," I replied, rising from my seat. "Thank you for the company, Mr. Vale."
He didn't stop me as I turned to leave, but I could feel his gaze following me all the way to the door.
Outside, the air was cooler, the city lights shimmering against the pavement. I stood still for a moment, the night breeze brushing against my skin, and let a small smile curve my lips.
Got you.