Moments later, they both sat at the dining table. Lucien had already regained his usual demeanor—his face an expressionless mask of indifference. Vicky, too afraid to make a sound, carefully set the breakfast dishes in place, barely letting her gaze linger on either of them before quickly retreating from the dining room.
In front of Cynthia sat a glass of milk, along with an assortment of delicate pastries, a perfectly cooked egg, and a steak. By contrast, Lucien's meal was far simpler—just a black coffee and a sandwich. It was obvious that his breakfast routine was fixed, and the extra dishes on the table had been specially prepared for her.
Staring at the excessive amount of food before her, Cynthia felt a flicker of irritation. Did he take her for a pig? How on earth was one person supposed to eat so much?
Lucien sat with his usual elegance, his posture reminiscent of an aristocrat from the Middle Ages. He focused entirely on his meal, never once sparing her a glance.
Cynth
