Bernard Stark and Cerci Lannister -1
Bernard:
Her mascara had created delicate shadows beneath her lashes, tears leaving a vulnerable shimmer in her eyes that caught the soft lighting. The sight stirred something protective in me I rarely acknowledged.
She settled beside me on the couch, her silk dress rustling like whispered secrets as it rode up slightly, revealing the smooth curve of her thigh. Taking the plate I’d prepared, she sampled a bite, full lips parting in a way that momentarily distracted me.
“It’s delicious. I don’t understand your criticism, she said, her gentle frown creating a small crease between her brows.
Was that what passed for culinary excellence in her world? I imagined her in Paris, surviving on mediocre meals, and felt an unexpected wave of tenderness.
“Take your time or you might choke, and I’m afraid Siri no longer offers disposal site recommendations for bodies. My attempt at humor fell flat, as always.
“It’s been three years, Ben,” she whispered, dabbing at her nose with a tissue. “When will everyone forgive me? Not even your parents attended.”
“My parents aren’t exactly renowned for their capacity for forgiveness or patience. Or kindness… or anything remotely resembling human warmth, really.”
A small laugh escaped her. Are they still pressuring you about marriage?”
My silence answered for me.
“You’ll eventually need to be honest with them about who you are. Those rumors-
“Why are labels necessary? Gay? Straight? I’ve never defined myself by such limited. parameters.” I’d been drawn to both men and women, attracted to the essence of a person
rather than their gender.
“Whatever you choose to call it, I recommend sorting it out before your mother
announces her presidential campaign. Opponents have an uncanny talent for excavating
personal matters.”
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Bernard Stark and Cerci Lannister -1
“Would you prefer I stay?” I changed course, not wanting to discuss my mother’s political
ambitions.
She shook her head, golden strands catching the light like spun honey. “I honestly just want to forget tonight ever happened. You should go home.”
“If you need anything, call me,” I said, rising to leave.
“Ben,” she called as I reached the stairs. “Thank you for coming.”
“Always.”
“Oh, and Ben? There’s a housekeeper downstairs–Cerci. Would you mind giving her
something extra? She went above and beyond for me today.”
Cerci. The name sent an unexpected ripple of awareness through me. The mysterious woman who kept appearing at the edges of my life, her presence lingering in my thoughts long after our brief encounters.
Cerci:
I was arranging the last of the party remnants when I sensed his presence–a shift in the air, a subtle change in the atmosphere that made the fine hairs on my arms rise. Turning, 1 found him standing in the doorway, his frame filling the space with quiet authority. His eyes–deep blue, like twilight over water–moved deliberately across the spotless room before settling on me with an intensity that quickened my pulse.
1
“Where is everyone?” His voice carried the slight roughness that comes at the end of a long evening, the kind of texture that makes you wonder how it might sound whispering against your ear in darkness.
“I thought you’d dismissed them,” I replied, suddenly hyperaware of being alone with him, of the silence stretching between us like an invitation.
“And you don’t consider yourself part of ‘everyone“?”
gave a small shrug, noticing how his gaze tracked the movement, lingering on the curve where my neck met my shoulder. “I couldn’t bear leaving such chaos. Ms. Monrova shouldn’t wake to a disaster after what’s clearly been a difficult night.”
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Bernard Stark and Cerci Lannister -1
“So you’ve appointed yourself guardian angel, cleaning up other people’s messes?” There was something in his tone–not quite mockery, but a challenge that made heat bloom
across my skin.
“I’m no angel,” I responded, meeting his gaze directly. “I’m still on the clock–every
minute counts.
“All this dedication for a few extra dollars, he observed, watching me with an intensity
that felt almost physical.
My fingers tightened reflexively. “Yes. I’m working for those ‘few extra dollars. They represent necessities. Have you ever experienced genuine hunger, Mr. Stark? The kind that twists inside you until you’re physically ill? My voice remained steady despite the emotion beneath it. Those extra dollars you dismiss so easily mean more to me than you
could possibly comprehend.”
“I apologize,” he said, his voice softening into something unexpectedly genuine. “That was thoughtless of me.”
1 regarded him skeptically. ‘Are you only saying that because I mentioned it helps people
to remain calm in tense situations?”
His smile transformed his entire face, revealing a boyish charm that sent an unwelcome flutter through my chest. “Well, staying calm does seem prudent, considering your proximity to the cutlery.”
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