A meal at the Lennox's lll

Chapter 16

Lyra

The dishes were immaculate—plated so perfectly it felt like a crime to touch them. Everything was color-coordinated, from the vibrant greens of the salad to the subtle hues of the roasted vegetables. There were no sweets in sight, which was already a red flag for me. But the worst part wasn’t the food—it was the rules.

Roman ate in absolute silence, his silverware moving with surgical precision. No clinking, no scraping. Anthony’s utensils were equally quiet, as if he had trained for this moment his entire life. Meanwhile, I was hyperaware of every tiny noise I made. The softest clink of my fork against the plate earned me a sharp, icy glare from Roman. My throat tightened, and suddenly the food tasted like cardboard.

When Anthony finished his meal, he placed his silverware down perfectly parallel, wiped his mouth with his napkin, and stood. “Excuse me, Roman. There’s an… emergency I need to attend to.”

Roman nodded, clearly unconcerned.

Anthony glanced at me, his eyes pleading for forgiveness. As he walked past, he mouthed, Sorry, and blew me a kiss. I glared at him, mouthing colorful curse words in return.

Now it was just me and Mr. Lennox.

The silence was unbearable. I fidgeted, unsure whether to continue eating or give up entirely. Roman’s pale eyes locked on me, and I stiffened.

“I didn’t even make any noise,” I muttered defensively, wiping my mouth. “I’m done. Thank you for the meal.”

I pushed back my chair, ready to escape and grab a pizza before I starved to death, but Roman’s voice stopped me.

“You can make noise.”

I blinked, confused. “Wouldn’t that… bother you?”

Roman set his silverware down and leaned back, his gaze steady. “You’re not in a prison, Ms. Winters. Eat properly.”

I hesitated but finally sat back down, determined to follow his advice. I picked up my fork and began eating, making a conscious effort not to glance at him. To my surprise, Roman didn’t seem to notice me anymore, fully engrossed in his own meal.

By the time dessert was served, I was ready to bolt—until I saw what it was. Tiramisu. My heart practically turned heart-shaped at the sight of it.

But then I noticed Roman wasn’t touching his.

“Are you not going to eat that?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

He shook his head.

“You’re missing out,” I said, cutting a piece with my fork. “Life’s pleasures, Mr. Lennox. Dessert is one of them.”

I took a bite and let out a soft moan, savoring the rich, creamy flavor. Then I realized what I’d done. My eyes darted to Roman, whose pale gaze was fixed on me, a flicker of something unreadable in his expression.

I swallowed quickly, feeling heat creep up my neck. “Sorry,” I muttered, suddenly wishing I could disappear.

Roman’s expression softened. “Is Ethan bothering you?”

The question caught me off guard. “I’m fine,” I said quickly. “I can handle him.” I straightened up, meeting his gaze. “I won’t let my personal complications interfere with my work.”

Roman studied me for a moment before nodding. “Finish your dessert,” he said, his tone almost fatherly.

I raised an eyebrow. “You sound like a dad,” I teased. “And you’re not even thirty yet.”

His brow furrowed slightly. “How old do you think I am?”

I paused, racking my brain for the figure I’d read somewhere. “Twenty-eight… maybe twenty-nine?”

A ghost of a smile played on his lips. “I’m flattered. But I’m thirty-two.”

“Thirty-two?” My brows shot up. “Huh. You don’t look it.”

He tilted his head, amused.

I quickly turned my focus back to the tiramisu, chastising myself for thinking about how young he looked. Focus on the dessert, Lyra.

Roman’s phone buzzed, and he excused himself to take the call. I finished my dessert, thanking the heavens for the chef who had saved the meal with this masterpiece.

As I stepped out into the grand foyer, the soft echo of my heels on the marble floor seemed to amplify the silence around me. I was relieved to be heading home, away from the unnerving stillness of the evening and the intense, scrutinizing eyes of Roman Lennox. The tiramisu had been a small mercy, but I was more than ready to swap this opulent setting for the comfort of my apartment and maybe a late-night movie.

I had just reached for the door handle when his voice stopped me.

“Ms. Winters.”

I froze, my hand hovering mid-air, then slowly turned around. Roman stood a few feet away, his tall frame casting a shadow in the soft golden glow of the chandelier above. One hand was casually tucked into his pocket, his expression unreadable as always. For a moment, he just stared, his icy pale eyes locked on mine.

“Is there something you’d like to say, Mr. Lennox?” I asked, my voice steady, though my pulse quickened under his gaze.

He tilted his head slightly, as if considering his next words. “When we’re alone,” he said finally, his voice smooth but firm, “you can call me Roman.”

I blinked, surprised by the casual offer. “Roman?” I repeated, testing the name on my tongue.

He gave a single nod.

“Alright…” I trailed off, unsure of what to make of this shift in tone. “Was there something else?”

He hesitated, his fingers brushing against the edge of his pocket as if he were weighing whether to say more. Then, with a small shake of his head, he replied, “No. That’s all.”

“Well, in that case, thank you for dinner, Roman.” I emphasized his name slightly, the casualness of it still feeling foreign in my mouth.

His lips curved into what could almost be called a smile, though it was fleeting.

With that, I turned back to the door, pushing it open and stepping out into the cool night air. The quiet hum of the city greeted me, a welcome contrast to the stifling tension of the dining hall.

As I walked away, I couldn’t help but glance back over my shoulder. Roman was still standing there, watching me leave, his posture relaxed yet commanding. Something about the moment felt significant, though I couldn’t quite put my finger on why.

Shaking off the thought, I focused on the promise of a warm blanket, a cheesy movie, and maybe a tub of ice cream waiting for me at home. Whatever tonight had been, I was determined to leave it behind. For now, at least.