Claiming His Luna

Cercei’s POV

The entire week sailed by smoothly, with the café bustling more than usual. Nevertheless, I found myself motivated each day. Claire’s teasing persisted, particularly when Lucian made his appearance every morning.

Anticipating the chimes of the bells became my daily delight as they indicated his arrival, inevitably catching me in the act with Claire’s ever-watchful eyes.

Lucian and I are getting along splendidly, albeit just as friends. Surprisingly kind, he carries himself as a true gentleman, while his wit and humour never fail to leave an impression. Gradually, I find myself reconsidering our initial encounter, realising that we may have started off on the wrong foot.

I feel remorseful for attributing all the misfortunes in my life to him, for in truth, if it were not for him, we would not have been evicted from that mansion and forced to start anew. He introduced me to a world I believed existed only within the pages of books or on television screens. He helped me delve deeper into self-discovery. And now, as reluctant as I am to admit it, I eagerly anticipate each day spent in his company. He has an indescribable effect on me; every sighting of him ignites a frantic beating in my chest. When we’re together, time stands still and races ahead simultaneously. It defies explanation. This is the first time such emotions have ever bloomed inside me towards another person.

“Earth to Cercei,” Claire waved her hand before my face, snapping me out of my reverie.

“Apologies,” I murmured, catching my lower lip between my teeth. Retrieving my notepad, I dutifully took the customers’ orders.

“Good afternoon, Sir. May I take your order?” I asked as the man adjusted his shades to meet my gaze. He appears to be of similar age to Lucian, possessing a physique akin to his. Even from this distance, his extravagant attire reveals a penchant for high-end fashion. As he removed his glasses, a smirk played on his lips.

“Please, a cup of coffee,” he requested, accompanied by a playful smile.

“Coming right up,” I replied before making my way to fulfil his order. I could sense his gaze following my every step as I returned to the counter.

“Mhmm, another charmer, I see,” Claire bobbed, her chin resting on her hand as she observed intently. Her attention shifted back and forth between the man and Lucian.

“Now, my loyalty to Mr. Pancake is wavering,” she declared without hesitation. Shaking my head, I poured the coffee.

“Mr. Pancake exudes seriousness and intensity, but Mr. Shades over there is undeniably a player-captivating and attractive. Yet, Mr. Pancake possesses an aura of dominance, his beauty absolutely controlling. However, Mr. Shades’ dimples are simply to die for,” Claire rated, as though her life depended on selecting between the two.

Holding the tray gracefully, I approached the man’s table, carefully setting down his coffee. As he glanced up at me, a dazzling smile graced his lips, showcasing those captivating dimples.

“Enjoy your coffee,” I offered a modest smile. Inadvertently, I caught sight of Lucian, who seemed to be staring at us. His gaze carried a touch of intimidation.

“Thank you,” he replied, his voice trailing off, subtly hinting at his curiosity about my name and eventually asking it.

“Cercei,” I responded.

“Thank you, Cercei. I’m Vincent,” he introduced himself, extending his hand. I hesitated momentarily, as such friendliness from customers was not usual. Eventually, I accepted his hand, and he shook mine gently yet firmly.

“Well, I shall leave you to enjoy your coffee,” I said, accompanied by a smile. He nodded softly and returned the smile.

Meanwhile, Lucian raised his hand from the adjacent table. Another waitress approached him, but he waved her off and locked eyes with me instead. The waitress, a tad embarrassed, left the scene. With a sigh, I made my way towards Lucian.

He appeared grim, his gaze fixed on the man as I approached him.

“Can I get you something, Sir?” I inquired, only to be met with his cold stare directed at me.Content held by NôvelDrama.Org.

“Water,” he uttered shortly. I nodded, swiftly retrieving a glass of water. His intense gaze remained fixed on the man, who seemed engrossed in his phone.

“Did he say something to you?” Lucian asked as I placed the water before him. Confusion furrowed my brow.

“Something like what?” I asked, oblivious to what he meant by his question.

“Never mind. Are you free tonight?” he abruptly changed the subject. Though my curiosity lingered regarding his prior question, I decided to let it go. Did Lucian know Vincent?

“Yes,” I replied simply.

“I’ll pick you up,” he stated swiftly. I merely nodded in response before excusing myself and departing from the scene.

The man didn’t stay for long; after finishing his coffee, he left, leaving behind a generous tip, twice my monthly salary. To my surprise, Lucian appeared displeased by this, even suggesting that I throw away the money and accept an alternative sum from him. What a spoiled brat! How could he ask me to discard such a stroke of luck?

In the end, he relented, and once the shop closed, I ascended the stairs to freshen up and change. Following Lucian’s suggestion to dress comfortably, I opted for track pants, a tank top, and a pair of shoes. Frankly, I had no idea where he intended to take me tonight. We had been spending more time together lately, and I found myself growing to trust him to some extent. He had consistently displayed politeness and never tried doing something that might upset me.

I could sense his lingering annoyance as he remained unusually quiet, his lips pressed into a tight line when I met him. Was he angry with me?

“Is everything okay?” I couldn’t help but inquire.

He didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the road.

“Are you mad at me?” I softly probed again as he halted the car at a red light.

“No,” he uttered breathlessly. I found it hard to believe him.

“Come on, tell me,” I persisted, convinced something was bothering him. The light turned green.

“Was that the first time a man approached you?” he asked.

“Approached?” I queried, perplexed by his line of questioning.

“Did anything strike you as odd? Do you think you’re being followed?” His inquiries now felt distinctly odd. I couldn’t comprehend his purpose.

“What do you mean?” I shifted my body slightly to face him, observing that he was driving with only one hand on the wheel.

“Is there anything I should be worried about? Am I being followed?” I questioned him directly. He briefly glanced at me before returning his focus to the road.

“There’s nothing for you to worry about. I’m sorry; I was just… I just want you to be safe,” he sighed.

Am I in danger? The rest of our trip passed in silence. I longed to ask him numerous questions about his strange behavior, but I knew he would dismiss my concerns. Lost in his own thoughts, he, too, remained silent.