Chapter 182: Pac-Man

Elara’s POV,

The night swallowed us almost immediately.

Streetlights painted gold across the pavement while people drifted past us in small groups, laughing over dinners and shopping bags, paying absolutely no attention to the couple walking hand in hand among them.

Well…for a while.

At some point, Lucien’s fingers slowly slipped from mine.

Not because he meant to.

He had become distracted by whatever ridiculous story he was telling about Dante trying to teach Viktor how to use emojis properly, gesturing so dramatically that his hand simply disappeared from mine.

I stared at the space between us.

It shouldn’t matter.

It was just a hand.

Just fingers.

Just...

...

I want it back.

The realization annoyed me so much that I shoved both hands into my jacket pockets before my pride did something embarrassing.

I would rather choke on my own tongue than ask him to hold my hand again.

“So then Dante says—” Lucien suddenly stops walking, and I almost bump into him. His eyes lit up. “Bingo.”

Before I can ask what he meant, he catches my wrist.

“Let’s go.”

He drags me toward the brightly lit entrance of a massive shopping mall, and I immediately understand.

“Lucien, wait…”

He pauses as I reach into my tote bag and pull out two black sanitary masks.

“...Seriously? It’s night.”

“All the more reason to be cautious.” I hold one toward him. “I don’t want your mother dying of a heart attack because someone recognizes you beside me and causes another scandal.”

He snatches the mask from me with a sneer, and I chortle.

“I hate this, by the way.”

“I know, baby.”

He smiles as he puts on the mask. “I love the way you call me that, though.”

Five minutes later...

“...You have an entire room filled with suits. You’d swim in a suit if that were physically possible.”

“I know, and sometimes I wish it were possible.”

“Let me guess, you iron your pajamas.” I fold my arms with a smirk, and he glances at me.

“Have you ever seen me with clothes on?”

I blush, then furrow my brows. “Yes, I have.”

“Still made you think of me naked,” he winks, and instead of entering the men’s section, he walked straight into the women’s dresses. I groan.

“No,” I drawl. “You have to be kidding me.”

“I absolutely am not.”

Every other couple in the store looked normal. The girlfriends dragged reluctant boyfriends from rack to rack while the men sighed dramatically.

Lucien, unfortunately, had reversed the universe. He was the excited one.

“Oh.” He picked up a black gown. “This one’s gorgeous.”

He tossed it over his shoulder onto my arm. Then another.

“And this.”

Another.

“And definitely this one.”

I quietly placed the first one back on the rack.

Then the second.

Then the third.

“You know,” he continued without looking, “in our situation, I’ve never bought you a dress.”

“I don’t need one.”

“Which is honestly a violation if you think about it.”

“I’d rather not.”

“I want to buy you one.”

The seventh dress lands on me, and I quietly return it to the rack.

“Lucien, I stole from you, so you’ve bought me lots of dresses.” I think about it for a second. “Actually, mostly just black shirts.”

“See? Doesn’t count.”

He turns, and his eyes widen. I’m pretty sure his mouth is open wide.

“Whe—” He looked at my empty arms. “Where are they?”

I blinked innocently.

“Oh.” I acted surprised. “They must’ve floated back to where they belong.”

He shook his head and walked up to me.

“Elara, it would do wonders for my pride if you’d let me buy you a dress.”

His eyes somehow managed to look pleading, and I rolled mine so hard I nearly saw my brain.

“Fine.”

I reached toward the closest rack to pick out an emerald-green dress. Simple, elegant, and green. My favourite color.

“Just one.”

“Two.”

“One.”

“Two and I'll throw in a new laptop.”

I narrowed my eyes, and he narrowed his. Several shoppers subtly changed aisles.

“...Fine.”

I could see his grin from the mask.

“Fine.”

Then he actually whistles, and a sales assistant appears carrying a large luxury box. I stare with a fake smile.

“...What’s this?”

“My first date gift. It’s nothing much.” He turns to the saleslady and enunciates. “The box is unnecessarily large.”

“Lucien…”

He gently lifted both my wrists, removed one ear of his mask, and kissed the inside of one.

“I’m sorry.” His voice softened. “I know you’d rather steal from someone than let them spend money on you, but let me spoil you.”

Just this once.

The unspoken words hung between us, and heat crept into my cheeks. Thank God for masks.

“I’ll owe you.”

He snorted.

“Obviously.” Then his expression became mock-serious. “But if you even think about doing that little ‘I’ll pay the bill’ dance…” He leaned closer. “I’ll tie you to the bed for a week.”

I smiled.

“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “I might enjoy that.”

He wore his mask properly, and his eyes clouded.

“Trust me, you wouldn’t.”

~~

Lucien was right.

He took my card as a personal insult.

The moment I reached into my bag, he gave me a murderous look, muttered something to one of the security guards, and before I knew it, I was being politely escorted outside while he continued paying.

The nerve.

When he finally emerged fifteen minutes later with enough shopping bags to stock a small apartment, he found me standing on the pavement with my arms folded and my foot tapping so aggressively it deserved its own earthquake warning.

Without a word, he tossed a chocolate bar at me. I caught it automatically, and he smiled as he put on his mask.

“There. Feel better?”

I threw it back directly at his forehead, and it bounced off.

“You have a hard head.”

He picked up the bar and opened it. “You have a harder head. No woman of mine pays the bills as long as I’m alive.”

I mimic him, spin on my heel, and storm away.

“You sure you don’t want a taste?” He calls after me. “It’s fucking good!”

“Stick it up your ass!”

He laughs as he follows behind me.

By the time we reached the little park nearby, neither of us wanted to keep carrying the mountain of shopping bags anymore.

But it wasn’t even much of a park.

More like an abandoned entertainment centre clinging stubbornly to life.

Half the lights flickered, the carousel had been covered with a tarp, and the bumper cars looked like they hadn’t moved in years.

Only the arcade still buzzed with life. Lucien paid one of the attendants to watch our shopping.

“If anything goes missing,” he said pleasantly, “I’ll know.”

The poor teenager nodded so hard I thought his neck would snap.

“Here, have a bar,” Lucien tossed him the half-eaten bar and pulled me along with him. I turned to the teen and muttered. ‘He’s insane.’

The poor teen looked confused as hell.

Once our hands were finally free, Lucien cracked his knuckles.

“Did I ever tell you how good I am at Pac-Man?”

“No.”

“Better I show you.”