CHAPTER 191: HUNGRY

Lucas wheeled in a cart laden with Italian delicacies prepared by the chef.

The moment Beauty caught sight of the food, her stomach growled audibly, and she instinctively pressed her lips together.

"Hungry?"

Lucas’s lips curved into a rare smile, revealing a faint dimple that softened his usually stern expression.

She found herself momentarily stunned.

Since they’d gotten together, genuine smiles from Lucas were few and far between.

A slight upturn of his lips was already akin to a full-blown grin for him, let alone the rare sight of his deep dimples.

"You seem in high spirits today, Mr. Marson.

Did something good happen?"

Lucas helped her sit up before arranging the dishes from the cart onto the foldable table.

With a slight nod, he replied, "The company just successfully acquired another firm.

Isn’t that worth celebrating?"

"Of course it is!

This kind of news calls for a toast.

Too bad I can’t join you with these injuries—what a shame..."

Beauty sighed dramatically, though a small smile played on her lips as she speared a bite of French cake with her fork.

Closing her eyes in satisfaction, she savored the rich flavor.

Lucas cast her a sidelong glance before suddenly cupping her face and pressing a deep kiss to her lips—still sweet with cream.

He lingered until every trace of the dessert was gone, then pulled back with a satisfied smirk, wiping his own lips.

Beauty’s face burned crimson.

She gaped at him, speechless for a long moment.

"One taste of your cake is better than any drink you could’ve shared with me," he remarked casually, completely unfazed by her murderous glare.

He settled into the chair opposite her, picking up his knife and fork with practiced elegance to slice into his steak as if nothing had happened.

The air between them hummed with unspoken tension.

After a beat, Beauty exhaled a quiet laugh and lowered her gaze to her own plate, cutting into her steak and twirling a forkful of pasta.

"Oh, by the way, Drake and Samantha dropped by today."

"Hm.

He mentioned it to me."

Lucas remained expressionless as he spoke, taking another sip of juice before fixing his gaze on her face for a brief moment.

A sly smirk crept onto his lips.

"Seems my wife’s cheeks are getting thinner by the day—just one kiss and you’re still blushing like this.

Could it be that you’re shy because we haven’t been intimate lately?"

Beauty clenched her fork so tightly she nearly considered stabbing his smug mouth with it.

Her delicate brows furrowed in irritation.

"Do you feel physically unwell unless you find some way to tease me every single day?"

"Absolutely," he admitted without hesitation.

"So after dinner, Mrs. Marson, care to indulge me a little?"

"No!

I’m a patient right now!" she retorted swiftly, stabbing a piece of beef with unnecessary force and pointedly ignoring him.

Still, she couldn’t help noticing that her mood was surprisingly light today—unaffected by the lingering tension between Drake and Samantha.

After the meal, Lucas suddenly suggested, "How about I take you to the riverfront tonight?

You’ve been cooped up at home for days—might as well enjoy paris’s night view before you suffocate from boredom."

"Really?

I’d love that!

I was just thinking of going out but didn’t want to bother you."

Her eyes sparkled with excitement.

"Does that mean you’re skipping work this afternoon?"

"Work can wait.

I’m staying home with you."

As he refilled her glass with orange juice, Mary’s heart swelled with warmth.

For the first time, she realized that even being bedridden with injuries could feel like a blessing.

Once the table was cleared by the housekeepers, Lucas carried her to the balcony, where they basked in the golden sunlight and the gentle river breeze.

He settled into a nearby chair, crossing his long legs elegantly as he flipped through a financial magazine.

The breeze caressed their faces, the sunlight wrapped them in soft warmth—time seemed to slow into perfect tranquility.

Every now and then, Beauty stole glances at him, her heart fluttering.

*A man this handsome really never gets old to look at,* she mused.

*No matter the angle, he’s always so striking and refined.

The only time he’s unbearable is when he loses his temper—otherwise, he’s nothing short of perfection.

... As dusk fell, Beauty kept pestering Lucas to take her out for a walk.

The evening breeze by the river carried a slight chill.

Lucas helped her change into a long-sleeved casual outfit, carefully covering her injured leg to keep her warm.

Just as he carried her downstairs, Laura spotted them, her delicate brows knitting together in displeasure.

"Brother, where are you going?" she asked, her tone sharp with irritation.

"Just out for some fresh air," Lucas replied without turning back, his deep, cold eyes fixed straight ahead.

Before Laura could react, the car had already sped off.

Seated in the passenger seat, Beauty gazed at him with starry-eyed admiration as he drove, her heart swelling with joy.

Ever since she injured her knee, this once-cold and unpredictable man seemed like a completely different person—so much gentler, so much more attentive.

People always said women were fickle, but men could change even faster.

His hands steady on the wheel, his handsome face unreadable, this moody, enigmatic man had somehow filled her heart completely.

The car stopped near the beach. Lucas pulled out a wheelchair from the trunk—one he had clearly prepared in advance.

Beauty blinked in surprise.

"When did you get this?"

"Ordered it yesterday," he said matter-of-fact.

"Your leg won’t be healing anytime soon.

Unless you’d rather I carry you the whole way—which, if you don’t mind, I certainly don’t."

Beauty’s face flushed crimson with embarrassment as she turned her head away, refusing to acknowledge him.

In one swift motion, she was scooped up bridal-style, drawing curious glances from the onlookers around them.

"This wheelchair is actually pretty handy," Beauty remarked playfully from her seat, flashing a mischievous grin at someone.

Lucas crouched before her, gently tucking a wind-tousled strand of hair behind her ear.

His voice was soft but firm.

"If I’m not working late, I’ll push you out for a stroll every day from now on.

But don’t you dare touch this wheelchair otherwise.

If you take a tumble at home, you might end up needing it for life."

His expression was dead serious, not a flicker of emotion on his face, sending an involuntary shiver down her spine.

She curled her lips into a demure smile and nodded obediently.

For a fleeting moment, Beauty had the absurd thought that she and Lucas had already grown old together.

Then it struck her—he was so much older than her.

By the time they aged, she’d probably be the one pushing *his* wheelchair.

The image was so amusing she couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

Lucas’s grip on the wheelchair handles tightened.

"What’s so funny?" he asked, his voice low.

Beauty answered without hesitation, "I was just imagining how it’d feel when *I* have to push *you* around in a wheelchair someday."

His sharp brows furrowed slightly.

Clearly, the little brat was mocking him for being older.

A frosty glint flickered in his eyes.

"Don’t worry," he drawled, "given my fitness, it’s hard to say who’ll be pushing whom when we’re old."

Beauty pouted.

"I’m way younger than you.

Of course it’ll be me pushing you."

A dangerous chill crept into his gaze as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a warning murmur.

"Keep talking nonsense, Beauty, and I’ll roll you straight into the river for the fish to feast on."

"Childish!"

She arched an eyebrow in response, though the happiness radiating from her face was impossible to hide.