Page 10 of Bought By the Owner's Son
He eyes me, his gaze thoughtful as if he’s weighing his options. I can’t help but grin at his antics, glad to see a different and lighter side of him. “Alright, love. I’ll accept your payment. But I have a request and a question. After that, I’m all yours,” he says.
I stop and turn to face him fully. “Okay.”
“My request is simple. I know you can’t be comfortable wearing my clothes—after breakfast, I’d like to call in a shopper to bring you new clothes. Is that okay?” he asks.
I tug at the hem of his shirt, smiling at his thoughtfulness. “Yes, that would be great,” I answer, then I ask softly, “What’s the question?”
“I’m curious. What’s this special breakfast meal?” he asks, his gaze curious and searching.
I smile softly. “It’s just bacon, toast, and eggs. Nothing fancy, but you’ll love it.”
“Hmm. What’s the story behind this special meal?” he asks with a raised brow.
My smile turns wistful, my mind traveling to the cherished memories. “As a child, I used to help my mother cook in the kitchen. She used to call this mealspecial breakfast, but I think it was just a meal that was less stressful to whip up when she had a long day ahead.”
My mind wanders back to the present and I find myself gazing into Lucian’s tender eyes. “When I was looking for you earlier, I stumbled upon the kitchen and it reminded me of her. I guess I have you to thank for that,” I say, flashing him a bright smile.
“I’m sorry about your mother, Elena,” he says solemnly.
I wave him off, feeling a pang of pain at the old wound that suddenly feels fresh. “It’s fine. She’s been dead for a while. Car accident,” I explain before he can ask. “Cooking has become my way to get close to her and remember her. At the café where I work, they sometimes let me make suggestions for the menu and help with the baking, but what I really want is to own my own café.”
I’m not sure if I even have a job to go back to, after missing so many shifts, but I brush that thought aside for now, choosing to focus on the present with Lucian. I turn toward the refrigerator and open it, the gust of chilly air gliding over my exposed skin as I pull out strips of bacon. Under Lucian’s direction, I arrangethe ingredients needed to make bacon and toast with scrambled eggs.
As I slide some bread into the toaster, I glance at Lucian. “My turn.”
“I’m ready. What do you want to know?” he asks, bracing himself.
I swallow a sigh at the flash of panic in his blue eyes before he slams down his shield. “What do you have against pictures? Your home is like a tomb. There are no personal photos of you and your family.”
At my words, his blue eyes grow colder until his gaze is impenetrable and there are no emotions in sight. My heart thumps hard in my chest as he transforms into the dangerous stranger I met at the auction house. Not a trace of the man who made love to me and showered me with warmth and tenderness.
“I have no need for photos, and I have no family,” he says stiffly.
“Why? Where is your family?” I ask softly, my voice barely above a whisper.
Those cold blue eyes meet mine. “You’re asking for too much, my love,” he drawls. He sounds detached, but I clearly hear the dangerous lilt in his tone.
I should be scared. Instead, I’m filled with an overwhelming need to ease the pain I know he’s masking beneath his shuttered gaze.
“It’s alright,” I say. I take a step toward him. My voice is soft, as if I’m soothing a wounded bear. “You don’t have to say anything more. Let’s just eat,” I assure him with a bright smile.
He stares at me in silence, and when I try to turn around, he says, “Wait.”
I pause mid-turn and look up at him questioningly. Deep beneath his gaze, I see his struggle to hold on to his impenetrable shield and restraint. After a few seconds, his lips pull up at the corners in the semblance of a smile.
“I’m a very dangerous man, Elena. You need to know that I’m not the angel you’ve painted me to be in your mind. Nor am I the angel you prayed would rescue you. I’m jaded. I’ve done despicable things, and I’ve witnessed even crueler things. This is me, love. You have to know what you’re getting into with me before I answer your question.”
My gaze grows softer with Lucian’s words, and I inhale steadily, pulling air into my stiff body. I always knew there was more to the enigmatic man before me. But my heart only swells with emotion at his self-deprecating words.
He wants to paint himself as lethal, but I won’t accept it. What he doesn’t understand is that no true villain accepts the darkness within them. Only someone who possesses an innate goodness would recognize their own darkness. But I doubt he wants to hear that now.
So I nod, taking another step toward him. “I know, Lucian. I understand.”
He stares at me in silence, and I wait. After a few minutes that seem like eternity, his rich, deep voice fills the kitchen.
“My father and I are estranged. My mom is dead…it was my fault. I should have listened to her back then, but I thought she was being hysterical. My father is a very powerful and cruel man.My mom and I didn’t know that side of him until it was too late. He fooled everyone.”
His gaze darkens with remorse. “One day, she witnessed my father murder a man at his office—a man who had stolen from him. She was spooked, so she drove straight to my school to pick me up, hoping to run away with me.”
