Lucas raised an eyebrow, clearly puzzled by Claire's sudden attempt to shield her legs.
"Claire, I think you might be misunderstanding something here," Lucas said, his voice calm and reassuring.
She turned her head, her expression cautious. "What do you mean?"
"Are you misinterpreting my compliment earlier?" He watched her face change, a flicker of realization passing through her features. He sighed. "I meant it as a professional observation, not anything... personal. As a designer, I'm always looking at details, and your legs simply caught my eye as ideal for a model."
Claire blinked, confused. "What? A model?"
Lucas nodded. "Yes, specifically for the storefront displays in my studio. I've been preparing for the Asia-wide design competition, and I need a window model who can embody my vision. When I saw you that day, it wasn't about anything inappropriate. It was about finding the perfect fit for my concept."
She tilted her head, still trying to process his words. "But I don't know the first thing about being a model. Honestly, I can barely put on makeup without help."
He chuckled lightly. "You don't need to know. That's my job. Besides," he added, leaning back with a confident smile, "I like your smile. It's genuine and rare. That's enough."
Claire was taken aback, unsure how to respond to such direct praise. Yet, she quickly shook her head. "I'm sorry, but I can't help you. My boss—well, he'd never allow it."
Lucas raised an intrigued eyebrow. "Ah, you mean your boyfriend?"
Her voice faltered. "Boyfriend? What boyfriend?"
"The man who stormed over at the mall, pulled you away from me like he was ready to throw me out a window. You can't tell me he's not your boyfriend."
Claire froze, realizing he was talking about Lucas Zeller, her boss. She quickly recovered. "You're mistaken. He's not my boyfriend."
Lucas ignored her rebuttal, smoothly continuing, "By the way, is your 'not-boyfriend' the best man today? I didn't get a chance to see him during the ceremony."
She hesitated, her heart sinking. "I wouldn't know," she murmured.
Lucas caught the shift in her tone immediately. Her expression clouded, and she seemed to withdraw into herself.
"Why haven't I seen him around? Shouldn't he be here with you?" he asked.
Claire bit her lip, trying to hold back the wave of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. If Lucas Zeller hadn't come to find her by now, he was likely with someone else—perhaps even with her, *that* woman. The thought stung, and she struggled to keep her composure.
"You're crying," Lucas's voice softened, breaking through her thoughts.
Startled, Claire quickly wiped at her face, only then noticing the tears that had escaped. She looked up, finding Lucas now sitting closer than before, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder.
"I'm not crying," she lied, her voice trembling.
"You can pretend I'm blind if that helps," he teased gently, his hand giving her shoulder a light, comforting pat. "But listen, if something's upsetting you, talk to someone. Bottling it up won't help—it just leads to stress, wrinkles, and, well, no one likes wrinkles."
She laughed faintly despite herself. "I don't want to talk about it."
"Then don't," he said simply, his tone kind. "But promise me this—don't let it eat away at you. In time, whatever it is, you'll either find a way to deal with it or forget it altogether."
She sniffled, glancing up at him. "Lucas, you're actually pretty easy to talk to."
He smiled faintly but didn't reply.
For a man whose reputation preceded him as aloof and enigmatic, Lucas couldn't help but find Claire's remark curious. Most people either feared his sharp wit or kept their distance from his guarded demeanor. And yet, here she was, the first to call him *easygoing.*
An exception indeed.