Claiming His Luna

Cercei’s POV

“Large, quad, non-fat, one-pump, no-cream, chocolate-infused coffee,” uttered the customer, dripping with sass.

“Will that be everything, Miss?” I inquired, carefully jotting down her specific order. She wasn’t gazing in my direction, fixated on her phone, seemingly disinterested in my presence.

“Obviously,” she retorted, rolling her eyes dismissively.

“Coming right up,” I replied, offering a friendly smile. After all my time working here, I’ve come to understand that most individuals can be rather impolite, especially in the morning, until they’ve had their much-needed dose of caffeine.

“What an unpleasant person,” Claire commented as I approached the counter with the order. It seemed she had been observing the previous interaction. I chuckled softly.

“Yes, quite,” I concurred, affirming Claire’s observation.

I handed over the woman’s order, causing her eyebrows to knit together and her face to contort in displeasure upon reading it.

“Are we running a Starbucks here?” she scoffed in annoyance.

“What’s Starbucks?” I curiously inquired.

“Nevermind,” she muttered, proceeding to prepare the customer’s intricate drink. Today was a Wednesday morning, and the café had yet to experience the bustling rush of customers, granting us a slightly calmer atmosphere.

As I stood by the counter, patiently waiting for Claire to complete the coffee order, the jingling of the bell caught my attention, signifying the entrance of a new visitor.

A tall and slender figure, clad in black jeans and a simple white shirt, strode through the door. My jaw dropped as I recognized him. My heart suddenly races, it’s thumping almost overpowering my own hearing.

Our eyes met, and my entire body seemed to seize up at this moment. I must have appeared as if I had seen a ghost, but in contrast, he showed no surprise. He leisurely took his time selecting a seat.

“Yeah, I’d definitely hit that,” Claire’s voice startled me, causing me to nearly jump out of my skin. She, too, had been captivated by Lucian’s presence the entire time.

“Here,” she handed me the woman’s order, and I swiftly grabbed it, making my way to the nearby table, which was inconveniently close to him.

“Miss, here’s your order. Enjoy your coffee,” I managed to utter, devoid of any semblance of a smile. I could sense the weight of Lucian’s gaze bearing down on me from behind.

“Thank you,” she responded sweetly, elegantly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Evidently, her facade of kindness stemmed from the god-like man next to us. I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes.

Clenching my teeth, I approached him. Despite the trembling nerves coursing through my body due to a mixture of nervousness and boiling anger, I mustered the courage to confront him directly.

“What are you doing here?” I questioned him directly, and my voice tinged with frustration. He didn’t even spare me a glance, his eyes firmly fixed on the menu, diligently reading each and every word.

“Can I have this?” he pointed casually at a seemingly random word. My brows furrowed in confusion as he directed my attention to an image of a pancake plate garnished with colourful sprinkles in the menu option.

“What on earth are you doing here?” I repeated, making a concerted effort to maintain my composure and avoid causing a scene in my aunt’s café. Besides, my mother was upstairs engrossed in her sewing.

“To have a meal, obviously,” he responded, as though it were the most self-evident thing in the world. Unbeknownst to me, my grip on the notepad had tightened, crumpling its pages.

“Are you here to kill me?” I blurted out, my anger seeping through despite my attempts to conceal it.

“What?” He appeared taken aback and utterly bewildered.

“Or perhaps you’re here to deliver me into the hands of your wife?” I could no longer contain my anger, its fiery presence now fully exposed.

“What wife?” he exclaimed, his expression reflecting a mix of shock and confusion.

I exhaled sharply, frustrated by his pretense.

“Look, I have no desire to make a scene. I came here simply to enjoy a meal,” he asserted, raising his hands slightly in a placating gesture.

Annoyed, I closed my eyes briefly and turned my back to him.

“Do you know him?” Claire interjected, pointing towards Lucian, who was intently observing me.

“No!” I snapped, my response laced with irritation.

“Okay,” she trailed off, giving a half-hearted agreement. I handed her his order, my gaze fixed on him, shooting daggers from my eyes. He didn’t even bother to look back at me, feigning interest in an upside-down magazine.

Why was he here? Was he planning to drag us back to that wretched mansion? I scanned the surroundings, but I didn’t spot any men accompanying him. He was alone, appearing rather casual. But I couldn’t be deceived; this was undoubtedly part of his vicious scheme. I had grown to love my life here on Dinan, and I refused to let him yank me back into that hellish mansion. I would rather face his wrath, even if it meant my demise.

But what about my mother? Did he know she was here too? How did he even find out where I was in the beginning? I couldn’t fully believe his claim that he stumbled on this particular coffee shop among countless others worldwide. Moreover, he practically belonged to the royal family. Why would his refined taste buds crave a humble local coffee rather than the world-class beans that grew atop Everest or some other exotic location?

Had he been following me? My mother had already endured so much, and she was gradually healing since our arrival here. I couldn’t allow him to shatter that progress. Not a chance. He could break me all he wanted, but I would not allow him to touch my mother.Content © NôvelDrama.Org.

Placing his plate of sprinkled pancakes on his table with a deliberate force, I swore it nearly shattered on impact.

“Thank you for your incredibly kind service,” he said sarcastically. I bit my tongue in frustration. Surely Aunt Melanie wouldn’t mind if I punched a customer, would she?

“I hope you choke on your food. Have a splendid day,” I mustered a smile that concealed my seething anger.

Returning to the counter with a scowl etched on my face, I couldn’t help but wonder. Hadn’t he already ruined my life? He had taken my innocence, expelled us from that hell mansion, and now he sat here in my aunt’s café, leisurely consuming pancakes as if the world wasn’t crumbling around us.

What was he up to? How could he claim to be the King in the North when he wasn’t even in the North? The self-proclaimed monarch of pancakes.

“Why do I get the feeling that you know him?” Claire’s words cut through my thoughts.

“I don’t,” I retorted, wiping the already spotless counter, my actions mirroring my agitation.

“You’ve been glaring at him as if you’re plotting his demise in your mind.”

Oh, believe me, I am. I yearned to voice those words, but I refrained.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I shrugged dismissively.

I may trust Claire to an extent, and she had proven herself reliable in the brief time we had spent together. However, I couldn’t drag her into my chaotic world. She was human, vulnerable. Besides, my mother had always cautioned me against placing trust in anyone.

“If you say so,” she chimed in a sing-song voice before leaving me to my own thoughts.

I sighed, weary of keeping my secrets from my friends. But if it meant protecting them, I would willingly steer this ocean of darkness alone.