Faux Vows, True Desires

Chapter 444

"No, there's no one," Lucinda stammered.

"Really? Are you sure?" Stefan pressed with a sly grin.

"Well, there's this guy at work who always seems to wait for me to clock out. He likes to sit with me at lunch too," Lucinda admitted, feeling the weight of her words in Stefan's territory.

She knew better than to lie to Stefan. He had a way of finding out the truth, and the consequences weren't always pleasant. So, she told him about the colleague who hadn't made an official move yet but was clearly interested.

"Well, he hasn't made a move yet, so no need to worry. I'll be heading back to Skywatch in a few days anyway," she said, hoping to reassure him and spare her colleague any trouble. Getting a decent job with good pay and benefits was tough enough without her husband's interference.

"It's my fault for hiding my true identity from him. If he knew who I was married to, he wouldn't dare to even think about it," she added.

Stefan's face was calm as he replied, "I never said I was going to do anything to the guy. Why are you so quick to defend him?"

"I just don't want someone to lose their job because of me," Lucinda said, setting down her cutlery and scooting over to wrap her arms around Stefan's neck. She planted a playful kiss on his lips and beamed at him. "You've got great taste, you know. Even with this hideous makeup on, someone's still interested in me. You've got a catch."

"Only you could boast in such a refreshingly modest way. I've always had good taste." Stefan chuckled, expertly serving Lucinda a helping of his favorite lasagna. "You have to promise you won't let anyone else get close. Remember, you are a taken woman!"

“With you as my husband, who could I possibly be interested in?”

"And I'm quite the catch, aren't I? Besides, you can barely keep up with my appetite, how could you even think about stepping out?" Stefan teased, his voice dipped in humor. All content © N/.ôvel/Dr/ama.Org.

Lucinda blushed, the innuendo clear. "Let's just eat, darling. Here, have some more," she said, quickly serving him another portion to change the subject. "I'll make sure you're well taken care of."

Stefan gave her a meaningful look. "That's the kind of satisfaction I'm talking about."

Lucinda bit her lip, speechless. Their lunch break had turned into quite the feast, with her playing into the wolf's hands.

Luckily, Stefan was considerate enough not to overindulge, sparing her back any undue strain.

The day continued without much fanfare for Lucinda, but her friend Cecilia was another story. After returning to the Serendipity Cafe with Owen, Becca, Cecilia's mother, grilled the young man with a mother's precision.

Only when she was convinced that her daughter hadn't been taken advantage of did she relax and warm up to Owen. Initially, Owen felt uncertain under the stern gaze of his potential mother-in-law. Thankfully, his honorable intentions paid off, earning him brownie points.

Now, Becca was offering Owen a plate of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies, a sign that she was starting to see him as part of the family.

"Thank you, Mrs. Yates," Owen said, grinning at Becca as he accepted the cookies.

Becca smiled back, her approval of the young man growing. He had shown genuine care for her daughter, not just a passing fancy.

Suddenly, a thought crossed her mind—could Owen be impotent? But as she observed his healthy and well-maintained appearance, she dismissed the notion with a flush of embarrassment. She had misjudged a decent man, and such thoughts were inappropriate.

"Mrs. Yates, may I have a word with you?" Owen asked earnestly.

Becca maintained her smile. "Mr. Martinez, please, go ahead."

"Just call me Owen, Mrs. Yates. I wanted to mention that Cecilia tore my shirt last night. Do you think she should compensate me for it?"

Becca replied without missing a beat, "She should indeed make it right."

"Then, may I ask Cecilia to join me for a shopping trip? I'd like her to pick out a new shirt for me."

Becca thought to herself, What a cunning man! It was clearly an excuse to spend time with Cecilia, and she couldn't find a reason to object.

Turning to her daughter, she called out, "Cecilia, come here, dear."

Cecilia had been avoiding getting too close to Owen, out of guilt and fear of her mother's wrath. Hearing her name, she hurried over with a sweet smile. "What can I do for you, Mom?"

Becca tapped her daughter's forehead gently and instructed, "You tore Owen's shirt, so you owe him a new one. We can manage the cafe without you. Take him shopping and buy whatever he chooses. Do you have enough money? If not, I'll transfer some to you," Becca added.

Cecilia, stunned, eventually recovered and looked at the smirking Owen. "Mom, I have enough. But I didn't really tear his shirt—it was just a few buttons. I can sew them back on. No need for a new one."

When Owen woke up with the shirt that had lost its buttons, Cecilia knew that he would make a play for his clothes, and never thought that he would offer to make her pay for him in front of her mom.

This guy was, literally, getting more and more indulgent.

But Becca was having none of it. "With your sewing skills, Owen might end up with buttons pointing to the Pacific. He's a CEO; he needs to look the part. Go on, take him shopping."

As Cecilia reluctantly agreed, Becca whispered a reminder, "That's what you get for flirting with men when you're drunk."

With that, Cecilia was ushered out of the cafe, embarking on an impromptu shopping date with the sly fox, Owen.

It was the first time Becca learned that her daughter, when drunk, turned into quite the flirt with men.

Ever since Becca confronted the sobering truth about last night's events, she found herself short of breath around Owen.

Because it was her daughter who had made advances on Owen, not the other way around.

Cecilia muttered under her breath, "I've sewn on buttons before; I’m quite skilled."

Becca's attitude toward Owen had shifted so quickly, now calling him "Owen" with such warmth and familiarity.

Could it really be that classic case of a mother-in-law growing fonder of her prospective son-in-law with each passing glance?