CHAPTER 461: DON’T TREAT LOVE LIKE AN INVOICE

Chapter 461 – Don’t Treat Love Like an Invoice

Lux finally looked at her. His eyes were darker now, conflicted. "I do want to. That’s the problem. But the way I want to do it... it always ends up sounding like a contract. Like I’m bargaining with your heart."

Rava’s lips curved into something sad and knowing. "Because that’s the language you know."

"Exactly." He sat up too, running a hand through his hair again, frustration simmering in his shoulders. "Greed and Lust—my instincts—they make me want to pay back everything. To lock it down. Secure the value. Make sure nothing’s ever one-sided. I thought you’d be happy if I tried. Even if it’s awkward."

"I am happy," she said, reaching for his hand. "But I’m happier when you don’t treat love like an invoice."

"...I don’t know how else to do it," he admitted quietly. "I thought I could learn. But I keep reverting."

She squeezed his hand. "Then let me help."

Lux turned his head slowly. "Help how?"

"By making it mutual," she said, scooting closer until her knees bumped his. "But not like that. Not with payment. With presence."

His breath caught at the word.

"Presence," he repeated. "Not presents."

"Exactly," Rava whispered.

He huffed a laugh, low and dry. "Fine. Then... tell me."

"Tell you what?"

He looked at her, eyes steady. Vulnerable. "How to thank you. How to make you happy. Teach me so I don’t look—or act—like a bastard."

Rava stared at him for a long moment. Like she was reading lines he hadn’t spoken yet. Then she leaned in, close enough that her breath warmed the corner of his lips.

"You already did the right thing, Lux."

He blinked.

"But," she continued, brushing her thumb across his knuckles, "the intention behind it was wrong. That’s what makes the difference."

He frowned. "So I got the action right but the why was off."

"Exactly." She kissed his hand gently. "You did it because you owed me. Not because you wanted to share that moment."

"I did want to—"

"I believe you." She smiled softly. "But the logic behind it was still rooted in transaction. You need to stop measuring gratitude in value. Measure it in memory."

Lux was quiet. Then, slowly, he leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers.

"I don’t want to lose people who care about me because I come off... mechanical," he said.

"You’re not mechanical," Rava whispered. "You’re careful. And generous in your own way."

He closed his eyes. "And what if my way is wrong?"

She smiled. "Then we keep fixing it."

The silence stretched between them again—warmer this time. Softer. Less tense.

Lux leaned back, brushing her hair behind her ear. "Still... if I can’t pay you in gold or power..."

"You can’t," she said firmly.

"Then at least let me hold you tonight."

Rava blinked at that. Her teasing mask cracked for a second.

"Just... hold?"

He nodded, eyes steady, voice low. "Greed can be patient. When the treasure is rare enough."

Then, with that crooked little smirk of his returning—just barely, just faintly—he added, "But I won’t say no to sex and intimacy either."

Rava blinked again, caught between a groan and a laugh.

"I mean it," Lux said, shrugging one shoulder, casual but not joking. "I need warmth, Rava. I crave closeness. The real kind. Skin and soul. That doesn’t mean I want to take from you. It means I want you. All of you. Even if all we do is sleep tangled up and complain about politics and economic conditions."

She tilted her head, studying him. That smirk on her lips slowly returned, softer this time. "So that’s what you’re after? Cuddles and power naps?"

"Don’t mock the power nap," Lux said solemnly. "It’s sacred. Especially after high-intensity lobbying."

Rava rolled her eyes, but her fingers had already curled into his shirt, as if her body had decided before her mouth did. "Cheesy bastard."

"Always," he said, voice warm now, hands moving with deliberate slowness as she pulled him toward the bed.

There was no seduction this time. No battle for control. No push-pull of dominance and submission.

Just heat.

Just comfort.

Just him and her, in a quiet room where the only audience was the soft thrum of distant ocean-tuned magic and the faint murmur of a muted news report still playing on the TV.

Rava settled against his chest, her legs tangling with his like kelp in a current. One arm draped lazily over his waist, her other hand sliding beneath the hem of his shirt like it belonged there—because it did.

Lux didn’t reach for anything more. Not now. Not yet.

But his hand settled on her back, stroking in slow, grounding arcs. He breathed her in—the salt, the storm, the subtle perfume of kraken oils and logic and secrets.

They lay in silence again.

A different kind this time.

Not the silence of walls or misunderstandings.

But the kind of quiet that settled between people who’d fought hard for their own softness and didn’t quite know what to do with it yet.

Then Lux whispered, "Thank you."

Rava didn’t answer right away.

Her fingers tightened in his shirt.

Then she said, soft and steady, "This time? That felt real."

He nodded into her hair. "I’m learning."

She hummed, lips brushing lightly against his chest. "Just don’t learn too fast. I like being the wise one."

"You’re terrifyingly wise," he murmured. "It’s hot."

"Of course it is," she said, pretending to yawn like a queen lounging after war. "I’ve got years of market manipulation and blackmail experience."

Lux chuckled, the sound low and rich. "Remind me never to negotiate with you naked."

"Too late."

He kissed her forehead, warm and slow. "You win."

"I always do."

He didn’t argue.

Because maybe it wasn’t perfect. Maybe it wasn’t romantic in the traditional sense. But for someone like him—for someone who thought love was a system of value, where every favor had a price and every vulnerability needed shielding—this was the scariest and safest he’d ever felt.

And Rava?

Rava didn’t need diamonds.

She just needed him to stay.

Not as a prince.

Not as a power.

Not as the sinborn heir of Greed.

Just as Lux.

And for tonight?

That was exactly who he was.