CHAPTER 273: I’M NOT WHAT YOU THINK I AM

Chapter 273 – I’m Not What You Think I am

The lunch wasn’t as chaotic as the pool, thankfully. The aura of thirst had diluted somewhat, simmering beneath the shaded umbrellas and spritzers, no longer at a full public-orgy threat level. But the attention was still there. Lingering like perfume in the air. Every few minutes, Lux could feel it—someone glancing over, another woman giggling behind a cocktail glass, someone whispering "That’s him."

But he didn’t care. Not really.

Because for once, he wasn’t playing.

He was relaxing.

The steak was good. Rich. Seared just enough to be sinful. The eggs were fluffy, buttery. The grilled salmon was seasoned like it had studied under angels.

The tea, however?

Herbal. Bitter. Unapologetically healthy.

Lux grimaced after each sip like he was drinking regret. But he drank it anyway. Small steps. No coffee today. Just self-inflicted torture and leafy consequences.

Across the table, Ely poked at her fruit. She hadn’t said much in the last five minutes. Maybe six. She was just... quiet. Her cheeks pink, her lips pursed, her eyes flicking up to him, then back to her plate.

Lux watched her. Let her stew. Let the air stretch just long enough to tease. Then—he smiled.

Gentle. Soft. No smirk. Just genuine warmth.

For a moment, she looked like someone had unplugged her brain. Her expression softened, blinked once—twice—then her lips parted just slightly, and her chest rose with a breath that felt a little too deep for casual breathing.

Perfect.

He dropped the bomb.

"Do you have a crush on me, Miss Vireleth?"

She choked.

He didn’t stop. "Because you haven’t touched your food. And you strike me as someone who doesn’t waste investments."

Damn him.

Her fork slipped and clinked on her plate. She looked up—blushing, flustered, mouth fumbling like a politician caught with their pants down. "No. I—uh—I’m just... a bit full."

Lux tilted his head. "Hmm."

Oh, he knew. She could see it in his smug little grin. The kind that said you’re mine and I know it.

She glared at him, torn between throwing her drink in his face or crawling under the table. The look she gave him said very clearly ’Can you stop teasing me like I’m a human resources violation waiting to happen?’

Lux raised both hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay. No more teasing."

He finished the last bite of his salmon, dabbed his mouth with the cloth napkin, and stretched slightly. "I guess I should head back. Time to check in on the mansion renovation."

The words hit her harder than she expected.

Already?

Lunch was over already?

Ely tried not to let it show, but her voice betrayed her. "That soon?"

He smiled gently. "One of my workers is... a bit eccentric. Wild. Never worked in the mortal realm before. I need to make sure he doesn’t try to ’fix’ the plumbing with lava."

She gave a small, awkward laugh. "Please don’t tell me he’s also from the underworld."

It was a joke. Obviously.

Because the underworld didn’t exist. Not really.

Sure, the term got thrown around in myths, poetry, and maybe edgy novels with too much eyeliner. But in reality? She knew better.

Elyndra Vireleth dealt in contracts and blueprints, zoning laws and asset-backed expansions. She believed in taxes and traffic. Not in hellfire and horns.

So when she said it, it was meant to be playful. Dry. Light teasing.

But—

"Actually..." Lux turned his head toward her, a slow grin tugging at his lips. "He is."

She blinked. Once. Twice. The humor drained from her face.

And then—there it was.

That flicker.

His irises.

Red.

Not hazel. Not warm brown. Not sunlight-reflection amber.

Red.

Not just a glint. Not just a trick of the sun bouncing off the terrace glass.

It was deep. Quiet. Ancient. Like coals that never cooled. Like velvet layered over something sharp and burning beneath.

A whisper of something deeper. Something that said:

I’m not joking.

I’m not pretending.

I’m not what you think I am.

And Ely?

She didn’t have a laugh ready anymore.

She didn’t know what to say back.

But then he snapped his fingers and called the waiter like nothing happened.

"Check, please."

The waiter nodded and returned with a sleek bill folder.

Before Ely could stop herself, she blurted, "I’ll treat you."

Lux shook his head. "No. Let me. I don’t like owing anything."

She opened her mouth—because how? He had no pockets. No wallet. No card. He came in wearing trunks and a robe.

"You can’t—"

But then, like a magician performing a sleight of hand, he reached into the robe’s inner lining and pulled out a sleek black card.

What the hell.

Ely stared. Speechless.

The waiter swiped it. Approved. No issue.

Lux took the card back, lowered his hand again... and somehow produced a crisp $100 bill.

He placed it on the tray without blinking. "Tip."

The waiter nearly cried. "Thank you, sir."

"Wait," Lux said, picking up the pen.

He grabbed the same flirty note Cassandra had left earlier—the one he had mockingly ignored. He flipped it over and wrote in long, smooth handwriting.

9742 Elysian Ridge Drive

Beberly Hills

Mansion

Then he slid the note toward Ely with a smile that made her forget how breathing worked.

"My address," he said. "You can drop by anytime."

He tapped the table gently.

"To heal me."

Ely was speechless. Brain short-circuited.

Lux, completely unbothered, downed the last of his bitter tea, grimaced again, and stood.

"I’ll see you around, Miss Vireleth."

He winked.

Then walked away.

And just as he reached the edge of the dining terrace, he shrugged—shoulders rolling in that lazy, unbothered way—and slipped the robe off like it was never needed.

He tossed it over the back of a nearby chair, like a man discarding a napkin at a charity gala.

The muscles of his back gleamed in the sunlight, the damp trunks clinging again like the universe had personally conspired against Elyndra’s blood pressure.

He didn’t look back.

Didn’t rush.

Just kept walking—barefoot, confident, nonchalant—as if he hadn’t just wrecked a third of the local economy with a smile and an address.

And Ely?

Still staring at the note in her hand.

Still feeling her heartbeat like thunder in her chest.

Still completely, utterly doomed.

Note: Please comment if I need to add a MILF for this series.