The private dining hall they entered looked like something out of a dream. The long table was set for three, crystal glasses catching the soft golden glow of the chandeliers. The staff appeared and vanished like shadows, silent and efficient.
With Lucas's help, Rachel climbed into the middle seat, her little legs swinging happily. Lucas then pulled out the chair on her right for Bella, his hand lingering at the small of her back as he murmured, "Sit, sweetheart."
She obeyed, but her movements were stiff, almost hesitant. Her fingers twisted in the fabric of her dress as her eyes darted around the cavernous space. Everything felt too large, too overwhelming, and far too empty for just three people.
Lucas noticed. Of course he did. His gaze lingered on her, taking in the way her shoulders hunched ever so slightly, the way her lips pressed together as though she were holding her breath.
Instead of taking the opposite seat on Rachel's left, he moved his chair around and sat right beside Bella, close enough that their shoulders brushed.
Bella blinked at him, startled. "You're not… going to sit there?" She gestured at the opposite side where the chair had originally been placed.
A faint smirk tugged at his mouth as he leaned back with the relaxed grace of a man completely in control. "No. I prefer it here."
The words were casual, but Bella felt their weight. He had seen her discomfort, and instead of letting her drown in it, he anchored himself beside her. Her chest warmed despite herself, and when Rachel giggled as she swung her legs between them, Bella almost forgot how nervous she had been. These two were literally her safe place.
Lucas gave the staff a quiet, commanding nod after placing their order. "Leave us."
The waiters bowed deeply before slipping out like shadows, the sound of the doors closing behind them echoing in the vast room. Silence filled the space, thick but calmer somehow, no longer cluttered by watchful eyes.
Bella sat stiffly at first, but Lucas reached over and guided her chair a little closer with easy grace. "Comfortable?"
She nodded, trying not to gape at the expensive wine being poured before their food arrived. "I've just never seen anything like this."
He studied her face for a long moment, then leaned back, his expression unreadable. "Get used to it."
The first course arrived—delicate plates of art that looked almost too beautiful to eat. Bella picked up her fork slowly, intimidated by the neat rows of silverware, but before she could make a mistake, Lucas reached over and gently took the fork from her hand.
"Open," he murmured, low and teasing, though his tone carried a gentleness she couldn't resist.
Her eyes widened. "Lucas—"
"Sweetheart," he interrupted smoothly, his eyes glinting with challenge, "let me feed you."
Heat climbed up her neck, but the command in his tone left her helpless. She parted her lips slightly, and he slid a small bite past them, watching closely as she tasted it.
The flavors exploded on her tongue, richer than anything she'd ever eaten, but all she could feel was the intensity of his gaze.
"Well?" he asked.
She swallowed, her cheeks hot. "It's… good."
His smirk deepened. "Good enough for my wife, then."
Her heart stuttered. Before she could recover, Rachel piped up, "Dada, me too!"
Lucas's expression softened instantly. He took a small bite from her plate and fed her as well, his large hand careful as he wiped the little bit she missed from her lips. "There. Now you too, princess."
Rachel clapped her hands, giggling. "Mama, you too!"
Bella laughed despite her embarrassment, leaning over to feed her daughter. Then, to her shock, Rachel scooped up a spoonful and pushed it toward Bella with clumsy determination. "Mama, try mine!"
Bella accepted it with a smile, but when Rachel immediately turned to Lucas with the same bright demand, Bella froze. Oh no. She had just taken a bite from the same spoon. Surely Lucas wouldn't—
But he didn't hesitate. He leaned down and accepted the bite from Rachel as if it were the most natural thing in the world, his lips brushing the tiny spoon like it was a sacred offering. "Delicious," he told her with utter seriousness.
Rachel beamed, satisfied, and for the first time Bella felt the sharp edges of luxury soften around her. The grandeur of the room didn't matter anymore. What mattered was this—this unlikely, intimate circle of three, sharing bites like it was a secret ritual, their laughter echoing louder than any chandelier could shine.
By the time the main course was served, Bella's nerves had all but melted away. Lucas occasionally leaned in, offering her his plate with a murmured, "Try this." Sometimes he fed her himself, other times he let Rachel play the little hostess, and every time Bella's chest tightened with something that felt dangerously close to belonging.
When dessert arrived—delicate little pastries with spun sugar—Bella laughed quietly. "This is too much for just a job acceptance."
Lucas tilted his head, his gaze locking onto hers. "There doesn't need to be a reason to celebrate. Still, I do feel there's every reason to cherish my beautiful wife, cara."
Her breath caught. Wife. The word tangled in her chest, too heavy, too warm, too dangerous.
Lucas only smirked faintly, sipping his wine as if he hadn't just stolen the air from her lungs.