When we finally arrived at the destination, Holden got out of the car immediately and held the door for us. Levi got out and extended his hand to me to hold it. And I did, very obediently so.

Before our departure, Levi looked at Holden one last time and ordered, "Push the morning schedule ahead. I will inform you." Holden bowed again and added, "Yes, Mr. Blake." Ah, with the bowing again.

I watched the car smoothly leave with Annie and Holden. We were at the back entrance of the restaurant, but I could clearly hear the footsteps and clamor of the crowd, potentially the press. Levi straightened the creases of his suit and took a deep breath. I could sense him being nervous. The car ride was probably the first time I saw him genuinely being angry, and now I was watching him being tense again. I clasped my arm around his, hoping he might calm down again. "What's making a big guy like you so nervous?"

He relaxed the muscles under my touch and spoke. "It is not just the press; it is the food. I am not sure how much I can eat."

I blinked at his response. "What? The food?"

"Yes, I told you about my aversion before."

"Fine, but you can just eat the dessert," I said while shrugging.

"It would be really rude to the chef," he said with his firm voice.

I was trying my best to swallow down my laughter. "You are... really weird, Levi."

He faintly smiled at me. "Yes, Raphael. But we must leave now. Brace yourself for the dizzying light and deafening screams."

We walked to the front entrance, arms interlocked. With every step, I could hear the sounds getting louder. A familiar excitement and heat rose within me. I was actually used to this, but given Levi is the Saint of Ascaria, the crowd here would be much bigger.

I missed this—the flickering lights, countless shutter sounds, and people yelling for a better shot. I missed the attention. When we arrived at the entrance door, every movement of ours being pictured to perfection, Levi turned to me and smiled so brightly, my chest started to burn with his warmth.

His eyes were slightly creased, and he was showing his paper-white teeth while smiling. This was the first time I saw him smiling with his lips open. I was in a daze with this smile, but I pulled myself together to smile back at him.

...

The restaurant's interior was filled with a crowd, their eyes following us as we entered and made our way to our table. Levi hadn't reserved the entire venue, likely wanting to showcase both me and himself to the rich and powerful diners in this place.

Damn, lion. This is our second date; dial down your business attitude. He pulled my chair to gesture for me to sit down—what a gentleman. I sat down, watching him settle across from me. Rose-scented candles flickered in the dim light, casting a soft glow on the pristine white tablecloth and expensive china. Superb, for a date.

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He removed the napkin from the ring and snapped it open in a fluid, almost theatrical motion, before gently laying it on his lap. Do I copy him? I unfolded my own napkin with a more casual manner, since I thought it would look ridiculous. Levi was scanning around, probably assessing the people around, planning how they would spread the word.

After his evaluation reached its end, Levi broke the silence. "I hope the ambiance is to your liking."

One couldn't deny this was an amazing restaurant. I could also feel the gaze and stare of everyone around us, whispering to each other, surely talking about us. It was exhilarating. The moment we entered this place, time stopped, and the clock started running only for us.

It is not flashing lights; it is not the clamor of the cluster frantically running to take pictures. It is attention, racing my head with thoughts, making my toes curl with amusement.

"It's just amazing." I was grinning like an idiot, knowing how every eye was on me. Levi, understanding my excitement, commented, "You really do have a charming smile."

No, Levi didn't have a captivating smile. It was a disarming weapon. It put me in complete shock.

"Levi, no," I interjected playfully. "Yours was charming. I hadn't realized you had it in you."

Levi's gaze, steady and almost unreadable, met mine. "I have told you, my image on the outside is much different than I led you to believe. What would become of this country if their Saint didn't smile in a picture?"

So, the cold, calculating bastard is the real Levi; smiling, warm Levi is the fake one. That's why we don't have visitors, right? He always puts on an act around people, so the only place he can be himself is the house.

"But... It must be hard to act all the time." My voice softened, a hint of genuine sympathy creeping in.

"Some days are less bearable, some days are not. Surely, I do not have the luxury to throw everything away. If the price is forcing a smile, I am willingly ready to do so," Levi stated, his tone flat and resolute.

"Sure, but... It sucks," I muttered.

"Yes, it certainly does," Levi replied, a flicker of weariness passing across his features.

I felt sorry for him. I felt sorry for this lion. And I already knew how he didn't like to eat, so this was going to be another act for him. Damn, how can I pity him? He is Levi. He scares the shit out of me.

A champagne butler arrived, bearing a slender, elongated champagne saber and a bucket of meticulously chilled ice. Nestled within the saber's cup rested a bottle of dry, vintage champagne, its label catching the soft light with a subtle gleam.

With a respectful bow, the butler presented the champagne. "Lumen Dry Cuvée, as your order, Sir Blake," he said with a bright smile while looking at Levi. Can you imagine someone looking at Levi then smiling? It was like watching an eldritch being befriending an easily squashable beetle. Levi returned the butler's smile with the same warmth. "Your service, as ever, is impeccable, Mr. Thomas. I trust this evening finds you well?"

Did I get thrown into another dimension? What was unfolding before my eyes?

"Surely so, Sir. Your patronage is a privilege." Thomas moved with practiced grace, popped the cork with a soft sound, and poured two flutes. Levi looked up at Thomas.

"Thank you, now please attend to your duties," he subtly ordered. The butler took another bow and left.

"Who are you?" I asked with bewilderment.

"Saint of Ascaria," he shrugged, stating with his flat voice. He paused briefly while raising his glass towards me. "And you are my husband, Raphael Blake."

I raised my glass to toast. "Cheers to that."

Curse you, Raphael, for ever taking pity on him.