A Reign of Roses

Dinner Under the Stars

The evening air was cool as it brushed against Anastasia's skin, but she hardly noticed the chill as she made her way to the small private dining room in the elegant restaurant. The anticipation she'd felt all day was now a palpable sensation, swirling through her veins like a secret she could hardly keep. Dinner with Lukas Rosenberg, a man she barely knew. She had never imagined this moment, yet now that it was upon her, she couldn't help but wonder what he had in mind.

As she entered the room, her gaze immediately found him. Lukas stood by the window, his figure framed by the soft glow of the moonlight. The dimly lit candles on the table flickered, casting dancing shadows over the room. He looked... different. Softer than before, perhaps. His usual mysterious air seemed more relaxed, but there was something magnetic about him that hadn't dulled. If anything, the quiet elegance of the setting only seemed to amplify his presence.

"Lady Anastasia," Lukas greeted her with that warm smile, his eyes briefly flickering over her as if taking in every detail. His gaze lingered on the delicate fabric of her gown, the way it moved around her as she approached. "You look... stunning tonight."

Anastasia's heart skipped a beat, but she didn't let it show. She gave him a teasing smile in return, playing along with the flirtation that was now so thick between them. "Thank you, Mr. Rosenberg. You're not so bad yourself, though I had expected you to wear your uniform."

Lukas raised an eyebrow, taking a step closer. "Ah, I see. You think me a soldier through and through?"

"Something about the way you carry yourself suggests that you might be," she replied, voice laced with the same playful tone he had set. "But I must admit, I didn't expect you to be the type for fine dining."

He chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that made her stomach tighten. "I can appreciate the finer things when I choose to. But I do prefer an interesting dinner companion, if I'm being honest."

Anastasia's lips curved into a smile, her eyes meeting his. "I hope you're not too disappointed with me," she said with a light laugh, her fingers tracing the edge of her wine glass as she sat down across from him.

"I could never be disappointed with you, Lady Anastasia," Lukas said, his tone low and sincere, the flirtation momentarily falling away as he met her gaze with quiet intensity. "Though I will admit, I'm eager to see how this evening unfolds."

She looked at him curiously, wondering if his words carried more weight than he was letting on. But before she could ask him to elaborate, the waiter brought their first course—a delicate dish of foie gras and figs, followed by fresh baguette with butter, golden and crisp.

The conversation flowed easily as they ate, Lukas telling her of his travels across Europe, recounting his experiences with a mix of humor and quiet longing. Anastasia listened, intrigued despite herself. She hadn't expected him to be so open, so willing to share these glimpses of his life. His voice was smooth, compelling, drawing her in with every word.

And yet, despite the warmth between them, a part of Anastasia couldn't help but wonder about his silence on the war. She knew he had been a soldier—his uniform had made that clear—but there were no stories of battles, no talk of his time away from the continent. What had really happened to him? Where had he gone when he vanished from her life?

"I have to admit," she said, breaking the silence that had fallen between them, "You're a much better storyteller than I had imagined."

Lukas glanced at her with a faint smile. "I suppose I have had time to perfect it," he said, eyes twinkling with amusement. "There's nothing like a long journey to teach a man how to make the mundane sound exciting."

Anastasia tilted her head, studying him as she took a sip of her wine. "And what about you, Lady Anastasia?" Lukas asked, shifting his focus to her. "What is it that excites you? You don't strike me as the sort to be enamored with politics or idle gossip."

Anastasia hesitated for a moment, her fingers lightly tracing the rim of her glass. "I suppose I've always been drawn to the idea of freedom," she said softly, almost as if she hadn't meant to say it aloud. "The kind of freedom that comes with being able to choose for yourself what you want, without someone else's hand in your life at every turn."

She paused, her gaze shifting for a brief moment as she considered her next words carefully. "Especially as a woman," she continued, her voice quieter now, "I'm not sure if I'd like to be... locked up all day, expected to play the part of someone's perfect daughter or wife, with no say in how my life unfolds."

There was a vulnerability in her tone now, an honesty she hadn't intended to show. She quickly looked away, taking a small sip of her wine to cover her discomfort, her fingers suddenly feeling cold against the warmth of the glass.

Lukas studied her closely, his gaze sharp but thoughtful. "Freedom," he repeated, his voice quieter now. "That's quite the rare commodity in our world, isn't it?"

"Indeed," she said, her eyes narrowing slightly as she thought of the restrictions that came with her noble title. "Sometimes, it feels like the more you have, the less you're allowed to choose."

There was a long pause as Lukas seemed to contemplate her words. Then, with a small, knowing smile, he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping just enough to make her heart race. "And what if I offered you a taste of freedom, Anastasia? What would you do with it?"

Her breath caught in her throat, a flutter of excitement rippling through her. Was he serious? What did he mean? The look in his eyes suggested something deeper than simple flirtation, and the intensity of the moment was impossible to ignore.

Anastasia's heart raced in her chest, and for a brief moment, the world around them seemed to disappear. It was just the two of them, caught in a shared moment, bound by something unspoken but undeniable. The soft clink of silverware against porcelain, the murmur of voices in the background—all of it faded into the periphery.

"I suppose," she said softly, her lips curving into a mysterious smile, "I'd take it. If only to see what it feels like."

The air between them seemed to crackle with a charged energy, and Lukas's eyes never left hers, the flicker of a challenge in them.

"As you wish," he murmured, his voice thick with the promise of something more.