President Baby's Bride

Chapter 11: Dinner Plans

After Doctor Cici's dramatic exit, Year's face noticeably relaxed—apparently even the stoic knight found the doctor's antics exhausting. Lucian straightened his clothes, his small face still frosty, but when he caught Leona's expression, his eyes narrowed. "What are you thinking about? That smile looks positively evil."

Evil? Not really...

Leona raised an eyebrow, unable to suppress her amusement. Her little fantasy about the doctor and Lucian had been quite entertaining. Hehe!

Seeing Lucian's suspicious look, she quickly changed the subject. "Hey Lucy-kins, it must be dinner time! Want to eat out?"

"Eat... out?" Something flickered in his obsidian eyes.

"Is that not allowed?" Leona blinked innocently, though her smile held a challenge. "There's this amazing little Italian place I know..."

Lucian studied her for a long moment before nodding. He could see right through her little scheme.

Heh! What did he have to fear?

As they headed for the door, Year moved to follow, but Leona turned back with a sweet smile. "Sir Year, perhaps you should sit this one out? It's just a casual dinner."

"I am His Highness's personal knight. Where he goes, I go," Year replied coldly, expression unchanging.

Leona's smile turned mischievous as she looked him up and down. "But you in that suit would draw more attention than His Highness! Besides..." She turned to Lucian with a teasing grin. "Or is our little prince scared of dining with commoners?"

"Scared of you?" His lips curved slightly. "Very well, my woman. Let's see what passes for cuisine in your world."

The corner of Year's mouth twitched. "Your Highness—"

"I'll take my phone," Lucian cut him off. "And I assume the palace security teams are already tracking my movements?"

Year's silence was answer enough.

"Then it's settled. Consider this a... cultural exchange."

Leona laughed inwardly. Differences—she would make sure this brat understood just how different their worlds were.

They left the presidential palace, Leona insisting they walk despite Lucian's fleet of waiting cars. Along the way, she called her friend to check in and let her mother know she was safe, explaining vaguely that she'd found a good job and was too busy to visit home just yet.

Their destination was a small family-owned Italian restaurant tucked away in a quiet corner of the city. Red-and-white checkered tablecloths, candlelight, and the smell of garlic and tomatoes—it was exactly the kind of cozy, unpretentious place that would horrify the palace dining staff.

The elderly owner, Mario, did a double-take when they walked in. "Leona! It's been too long! And this is...?" His eyes widened as he recognized Lucian.

"Just a normal dinner guest," Leona said quickly. "Who would like to eat without any fuss."

Mario glanced between them, clearly bursting with questions, but years of discretion won out. He simply nodded and led them to a quiet corner booth.

"The usual?" he asked Leona.

"And whatever His Hi—whatever my friend would like," she caught herself.

Lucian studied the laminated menu with the same intensity he probably applied to state documents. "What would you recommend?"

"Their lasagna is amazing," Leona offered. "Though maybe that's too messy for a Crown—"

"Lasagna," Lucian decided. "And a glass of..."

"Grape juice," Leona cut in firmly. "He's twelve."

"I run three multinational corporations."

"Still twelve."

Mario watched their exchange with poorly concealed fascination before hurrying off to place their orders. Soon the restaurant began filling up with the dinner crowd—couples on dates, families with children, groups of friends enjoying a casual meal. A few people did double-takes at Lucian, but most were too focused on their own conversations to pay attention to the small boy in the corner booth.

"Different from the palace dining room?" Leona asked, noting how Lucian observed everything with sharp eyes.

"Indeed. The protocol is significantly more relaxed." He watched a child at the next table attack their spaghetti with enthusiastic messiness. "Though perhaps too relaxed in some cases."

"That's the point! Regular people eating regular food without worrying about which fork to use or if they're sitting in someone's ancestral spot."

"There's value in tradition and proper etiquette."

"There's also value in being able to enjoy a meal without three servants hovering behind you."

Their food arrived—a massive slice of lasagna for Lucian and Leona's favorite mushroom ravioli. She watched with interest as he took his first bite.

"Well?"

He chewed thoughtfully. "The flavors are... robust."

"That's not an answer. Do you like it or not?"

"It's adequate."

"What does 'adequate' mean? Either you like it or you don't. You don't have to force yourself!"

Lucian raised an eyebrow, then deliberately took another bite. "The cheese blend is interesting. The sauce has depth. The pasta sheets are properly al dente. Would you like a full culinary analysis?"

Leona rolled her eyes. "I'd like an honest opinion from a twelve-year-old about whether he enjoys his dinner."

"I am not—"

"A normal child, I know. But even genius demon princes are allowed to simply like or dislike food without turning it into a diplomatic statement."

Something flickered in his eyes. He took another bite, then said quietly, "It's good."

"Was that so hard?"

"Expressing simple preferences creates vulnerabilities that can be exploited."

Leona's heart did something complicated. Sometimes she forgot just how much weight this child carried on his small shoulders.

"Well, in that case..." She reached over with her fork and stole a bite of his lasagna.

His eyes widened. "What are you doing?"

"Creating mutual vulnerability. Now we both know each other's food preferences. Mutually assured destruction."

A startled laugh escaped him—a real one, childish and bright. Several heads turned at the sound, but Lucian didn't seem to notice, too busy defending his plate from Leona's marauding fork.

"This is highly undignified," he protested, though his eyes sparkled.

"Welcome to commoner dining! Want to try my ravioli?"

He hesitated, then nodded. She pushed her plate closer, and he carefully selected a piece.

"Well?"

"...Also good."

"See? Admitting you like something won't make the kingdom collapse."

Their meal continued with surprisingly comfortable conversation. Lucian, it turned out, had strong opinions about Italian cuisine once he stopped trying to be diplomatic about it. He also kept stealing glances at the dessert menu when he thought she wasn't looking.

"The tiramisu here is fantastic," she mentioned casually.

"This Crown Prince does not require dessert."

"No? Then I guess I'll have to eat it all myself..."

They ended up sharing a piece, though Lucian insisted on using separate spoons "for hygiene purposes." His face when he tasted it was almost worth all the death threats and chemical burns.

As they walked back to the palace in the cool evening air, Leona realized her plan had backfired spectacularly. She'd meant to show him how uncomfortable he'd be in her world, but instead...

"That was... educational," Lucian said suddenly.

"Oh?"

"I see why you prefer such establishments. The informality has a certain... charm."

"Are you saying you enjoyed our date?"

He stumbled slightly. "This was not a date. It was a cultural exchange."

"Candlelight dinner, shared dessert... sounds like a date to me!"

"You are being ridiculous."

"Says the boy who marks his fiancée with acid."

"That was a perfectly reasonable security measure."

"Of course it was, sugar-plum."

His eye twitched at the nickname, but he didn't threaten her with dungeons. Progress!

When they reached the palace gates, he paused. "We should do this again."

"The cultural exchange?"

"Yes. There are many aspects of commoner life I should understand if I'm to be an effective ruler."

"Uh-huh. Nothing to do with the tiramisu?"

"That is... irrelevant to my decision."

"Of course." She grinned. "Next time we'll try the gelato place down the street."

His eyes lit up before he could stop them. "That would be... diplomatically advantageous."

"You're adorable when you try to justify dessert as state business."

"The dungeons are still available."

"Sweet dreams to you too, honey-bunny!"

As she watched him stride away, trying to maintain his dignity despite his small size, Leona couldn't help but smile. Maybe their worlds weren't as incompatible as she'd thought.

Though she was definitely telling Doctor Cici about his reaction to the tiramisu. For medical purposes, of course.