Bright Knight:Goddess

Lucas enters the dimly lit alcove that is Snug Corner. Immediately his senses are assaulted by flowery décor. Hmmm. Love is in the air, he thinks with a shudder. To each his own.

His family should already be seated. Arlington Bright would not be happy that he’d skipped out on the ceremony, but a third cousin’s wedding is not on his list of priorities and certainly not today, his twenty-third birthday. Not that he celebrates birthdays either.

He looks around and just manages to keep his features from revealing the disdain he harbours for occasions such as these. Though, his lips still shift just slightly upward with it. After a swift survey of his surroundings, he supposes that he can, at least, appreciate the aesthetics of the place. His third cousin had chosen a fine establishment to host her wedding reception. No doubt a good many people with money to throw around would choose a venue such as this. Isolated and private but for Lucas, it’s the dark corners and hidden spots that strike his fancy. Perfect for the things to keep a man like him from dying of boredom.

A hand sticks up from somewhere near the front of the room, catching his attention. Lucas stifles a groan. That’s just fabulous indeed. They’re third cousins, for chrissake. Why, oh why had Connie bestowed them with a seat of such honor? He really would have preferred if their table had been stuck behind a pillar or stuffed in a hole somewhere far, far to the back of the room.

While winding his way over to their table, he shakes his head ruefully as his father’s disappointed, accusatory glare slices through him.

“You’re late, Lucas, exceptionally so.” Still, his father rises to embrace him in a fond hug. “Happy birthday my boy,” he says patting Lucas soundly on the back.

“Thanks, Dad,” Lucas mumbles. Generally, he doesn’t mind his father’s spontaneous displays of affection. It’s just that he can feel an entire room full of eyes staring.

Once his father releases him, Lucas goes around the table to place a kiss on his stepmother’s brown cheek while wondering what the consensus would be if they knew the reason for his tardiness.

“Happy Birthday, Lucas,” Shanice offers warmly and pats his hand while he pulls out his chair.

His father’s wife is a lovely lady, pleasant and motherly, but he already has a mother. Albeit not the best, but a mother nonetheless. “Thank you, Shanice,” he responds with perfunctory appreciation.

His siblings are gathered as well, all three of them, waiting for him to sit before they take their turns to wish him a happy birthday - nevermind that the day is almost over.

And so it begins. Presents that he did not need nor want, wrapped handsomely in dark decorative gift paper, suddenly appear and he has to harden his heart. This really isn’t something he wishes to celebrate. Thankfully, they do not add to his discomfort by making a grand show of it. Surreptitious in their presentation, they slide their small and pretty packages across the white tablecloth so he has a small pile in front of him. He won’t spurn their generosity and thoughtfulness but he doesn’t have to like it either.

“Couldn’t this have waited?” he mutters.

“Waited until when, exactly?” his father asks. “We hardly see you. I don’t even know where you live for God’s Sake. I feel like I have to make an appointment to see my own son. I’m surprised you bothered to show your face here at all. And I hope that you plan to remain for the whole…” Arlington makes a grand show of sliding his jacket sleeve back to peer down at the watch on his wrist. “However long this thing will last,” he finishes.

All of them are now looking at him with accusations in their eyes and Lucas valiantly pushes aside the burn of shame inside him.

His father has him on one point. There is simply no way to explain that as the son of a billionaire and a successful entrepreneur himself, that he is currently between homes. He has no place to invite them to. No place to call his own to lay his head as yet. Unless hotel rooms count. He can already hear the lecture and the invitation to take up residence in his old bedroom. By nurture - not nature - he’s nomadic and restless. On the other point Arlington had raised, he will do his best to stick this out to the end because of his guilt. Now, he feels as if he owes them that.

He clears his throat and mutters, “thank you. I hope you don’t actually expect me to open these here.”

That statement and the glum on their faces brings an end to any further discussion about his lateness and birthday. Yes, sometimes he’s a villain but he’s really doing his family a favour, keeping them at a distance.

The festivities wear on, interminably slow, through lengthy, senseless toasts and speeches and father-daughter dances. Lucas is bored out of his mind. There is nothing remotely stimulating about this gathering. Why do people deliberately subject themselves to this torture?

He observes the bride and groom on the dance floor with mild interest. They are smiling happily at each other. The bride, standing a little more than a smidge over her husband, looks down at him while he gazes like a besotted fool up at her. Could their display of warm affection be a facade? Or is it genuine? He wonders. His mother and Kurt are experts at putting on a show. They smile at each other in public all the time, just like this, but they get along as well as matter and antimatter behind closed doors. There’s a depressing thought. One from which he needs to divert with haste.

His only hope for survival would be to find a willing skirt and take her to one of those pleasantly dark corners he’d spied on the way in, before the end of the night. Pickings seem to be slim. It’s a small affair, which is regretful. He will not be able to sneak away unseen. The cheapskate. Didn’t the upper class like his cousin appreciate a flamboyant affair to land them in magazines and whatnot? It’s most unfortunate really. Redirecting to his original thought, he muses, although the waitresses aren’t bad.

The reception is being catered by one of his favorite Manhattan restaurants. They always hire the choicest of women in New York City and tonight they do not disappoint. Blondes, redheads, brunettes, and his eyes wander.

A pixie vision with hair the color of midnight and skin that glows like fine honey emerges from the back with her serving tray held up over her shoulder. Lucas shifts and straightens in his seat. She will do. Please be our waitress. But she cuts a hard right, serving dessert to a table too far away from him to do any real damage.

She serves with a pretty smile. Practiced, but pretty while responding to whatever banalities its occupants try to ply her with.

A good-looking gentleman reaches out to touch her small hand while she sets pecan berry pie and ice cream before him. She doesn’t rebuff but Lucas can read on her tight features that she doesn’t appreciate the very informal gesture.

Lucas is momentarily transfixed by her. She looks up as if aware that he is watching. Their eyes collide across the room. His intent, once he’d captured her attention, was to engage her but his reaction is delayed. He cannot even muster a smile. There is no falling away of the rest of the room, only recognition of something beautiful. Lucas is stunned by it. He is even more stunned by the way his heart lurches against his ribs like it’s happy to see her.

She’s so beautiful. A most peculiar thought. His eyes narrow because of it. Usually, he thinks of women in two categories - doable or not. But with her, all he can do is stare as the rest of the room slowly disappears and there is only her.

She, however, doesn’t smile. Doesn’t blush. There is no coyness that promises a clandestine meeting in the dark. She gives no acknowledgment to his perusal of her. Just turns, leaving him with the sway of her hips and the unshakable sense that he’s been assessed and found wanting. It’s the first time in his life a woman’s indifference feels like a challenge.

He is distracted by her for the duration of the event, his eyes finding her unintentionally. Silently, he wishes that by a small miracle she might end up in close proximity with him. But once the feasting is over and dancing begins, all hope of that will be lost. She will pack up and leave. Or maybe he could seek her out. But he’s not the type to be hung up on a woman so he dismisses the idea. Had she been assigned to his table he would have flirted openly.

It’s impossible not to notice that his two brothers, one half and one step, are eyeing her as well. His eyes narrow again. They are both better men than him. She isn’t paying attention to any of them though, which is baffling. Does she not know who they are? Who he is? Impossible.

He can’t help but look at her every time she comes back into the reception hall, but she blatantly and purposefully avoids looking his way. For some inexplicable reason her valiant and successful efforts to disregard his presence make him smile.

The little fairy serves a table right next to them. Small miracle, in part, granted. Her blatant bid to ignore his attention is humorous as she does it with her back toward him. He chuckles helplessly. It’s an attempt to further avoid eye contact of course. Only she’s given him a delicious view of a round and firm posterior and a generous flare of hips, which he stares at openly. No one can seem to avert their eyes, not even his stepmother.

Lucas whistles deliberately, long and slow. Her spine stiffens. His shoulders shake with quiet laughter. Something warm trickles into him. Turn around, little fey.

He expects it. For her to turn around and rake him over the coals. He wouldn’t mind it. He’d love to see those eyes up close and personal, but she doesn’t. How sickeningly disappointing.

Dutifully, without a backward glance, she does her job and disappears to fulfill the guests’ requests.

“I’m sure I raised you better than that boy,” his father scolds frowning.

“But you didn’t raise me,” Lucas says, unabashed and unrepentant. He lowers his gaze to his phone, distracted by a new finance app he is testing out, so he misses the hurt in his father’s eyes.

He loves women. He would certainly love to love this particular one, but he can tell that it is a lost cause. He prefers his women ready and willing with no strings attached.

“You’re so lucky.”

Alaine turns around at the voice. She finds Bethany leaning against the wall, wearing an expression that matches the dreaminess in her tone. It’s been a long day, a long night and although she likes Bethany - one of the precious few friends she has in this city - now is not the time for this.

Ready to make her exit, Alaine removes the black apron, shrugs on her coat, and slips her hand through the straps of her bag. Still, she can’t help answering, “me?”

Because surely Bethany can’t be serious. She’s a broke, sleep-deprived college student, who works at a flower shop, picks up weekend shifts at a restaurant, and works the occasional private event to earn extra cash. Lucky? Where’s the luck in that?

“You can’t say you did not see Lucas Bright ogling you since he got here,” Bethany replies.

Alaine scoffs and rolls her eyes.

“Are you serious?” Her pretty, young, blonde, and blue-eyed colleague asks incredulously. She is so much like Alaine’s older sister, both in appearance and demeanor.

At the thought, sadness fills Alaine’s heart and she tries unsuccessfully to dislodge it. Delah. She hasn’t seen or heard from her older sister in almost a year. With a sigh, she continues to ignore Bethany and her questions while they both prepare to take their leave. Her friend, however, will not be deterred.

“The most eligible bachelor in New York City has been eye-banging you all night long and you can’t muster the interest? Are you betrothed or something?”

Alaine cringes at her use of language. Or something. “Most eligible bachelor?” she asks while replacing her respectable heels with flats. If she has to go train chasing tonight, she needs to be practical.

“Yes,” Bethany continues, incredulous, with her always-chipper attitude. “Do you know another Lucas Bright? That’s the Lucas Bright of Bright Industry and Technology. I don’t know what that means but he is dreamy...and rich.”

“That’s Lucas Bright?” Alaine says pensively. “How old is that guy? Twenty-one? I thought he’d be older.”

Bethany shrugs. “Does it matter?”

How could she not recognize Lucas Bright? Alaine chastises herself inwardly. Not that knowing the identity of the man whose eyes had stalked her mercilessly all night would have affected her reaction to him one way or the other. But one of her lifetime goals since moving to New York is to work for that very same man. As soon as she is done with her degree, Bright Industry and Technology is the first place to which she is submitting her application. However, that is no indication of any interest in its owner beyond her fascination with his cutting-edge business.

She had noticed him ogling her and so what? She hated it, she tells herself. She’s not interested in men or relationships. They’re the worst kind of creatures. Since migrating to New York last year, she’s been propositioned by a fair share of them but she’s never been interested. Still isn’t, no matter how handsome the devil is, and this devil is particularly handsome in the ′I know it′ kind of way.

“And yes, that is Lucas Bright -- the man who could fund your entire degree with the change in his couch cushions. And he’s been mentally undressing you since the hors d’oeuvres. Billionaire McHottie wants to get hot with you."

“He does not.”

Alaine glances at her watch on her wrist dismissively and dives headlong into her attitude of indifference. The shuttle bus will be leaving soon and she has no intentions of missing her ride to stand here jawing about something that she does not want and will never have.

“From what I’ve heard,” Bethany continues while packing up her personal belongings. “I bet you, if you go out there and hand him a slip of paper with a time and place, he’d meet you in a dark corner and...”

“Stop, Bethany,” Alaine scolds, feeling her cheeks heat. Well, that’s new. She’s never blushed a day in her life. “I’m not meeting a stranger in darkened corners for any kind of... whatever word you were going to use. Now I need to catch the shuttle to catch the train.”

“You need a car.”

“Can’t afford it,” Alaine says, walking through the back door.