The food tasted delicious, and Hera tried hard not to moan.

“How do you know about this place?” She asked, eating the last of her chips. “It’s where my grandparents met. My grandma used to work here as a manager,” Hunter replied, and they talked about his grandparents for a while, how they met and fell in love and got married. His face lit up, he liked talking about his family, and Hera felt so happy watching him smile and laugh. 

“Why did you cut your hair?” Hunter asked, his tone was harsh, and Hera looked up from her plate. His face held a serious expression. She gulped her food and sipped a mouthful of her juice and thought what to say and shrugged nonchalantly. “I wanted a makeover,” she said, “To look good?” Her statement came out as more of a question, and he nodded, with a blank face. 

She knew he didn’t believe her. 

‘You already know exactly why I cut my hair..’ 

“You look good,” he said half-heartedly and to annoy him more, she smirked and replied curtly, “I know.” She tried to sound arrogant, but he didn’t react at all. 

“I can’t eat anymore of this,” Hera groaned, looking into her plate of spicy lamb. Hunter swapped his plate of fish with her lamb and ate silently with his head lowered. Taking advantage of the situation, Hera watched him silently and her mouth watered. 

‘He looks as yummy as the food on my plate. I could eat him for dessert.’ 

The fork dropped into his plate with a clink from Hunter’s hand, and he lifted his head to look at Hera. He looked shocked, and Hera frowned. She gave him a quick single up-down eyebrow flash, silently asking, “What?” He shook his head in slow-motion and went back to eating his food. She’d no idea she was thinking aloud, and he chose to keep it that way. Hunter bit back a smile while he let her enjoy her view and ate his food silently. 

Hera smiled at the Butler and leaned back into the chair, giving him more room to clear the table. When Hera’s gaze flicked onto Hunter, she found his eyes already fixed on her with a ghost of a smile dancing on his lips. 

His purple eyes looked dark under the dimly lit light. 

‘So beautiful, so captive!’ 

She could get lost in that deep valley of his eyes forever, and they were so bewitchingly mesmerising, she couldn’t look away. A brief memory from their childhood flashed across her thoughts. Hunter had said during their first meeting that her eyes look like a deep green forest he desired to explore. Hera subconsciously smiled at the memory. For her, his eyes were like an endless abyss, a deep purple ocean she would never hesitate to drown in. 

Hunter’s one eyebrow cocked up as in to ask ‘What are you looking at?’ Amusement waltzed in his eyes, and his smile grew into a wide grin. 

‘And the devil knows what I’m looking at.’ 

Hera turned her head to the side, narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t look so flattered, I was not admiring your beauty,” she said, scowling at him. Hunter clucked his tongue as he said, “I bet.” 

Even under the dim light, he could see her face turning into a darker shade of pink as she realised that he caught her in her act. She was doing exactly the same what she just denied, admiring his ‘Beauty’ that is. His eyelashes were thicker and longer than hers, guarding those purple, shiny marbles under them. 

“Beauty is not the right word to describe me. You could say handsomeness or hotness,” he said, shrugging his shoulders and pretended to think for a second. “Sexiness would sound even better,” he suggested with a wink. To hide the growing blush from spreading anymore on her heated cheeks, she rolled her eyes and mouthed ‘Whatever’ dismissing him. 

“Your dessert, my Lady,” the Butler said, intruding their private time and placed the thing he carried onto the table, and with a perfect bow, he left them alone. Hunter watched as Hera frowned in confusion. 

“Why is it all wrapped up? What, am I not supposed to eat it now? We are leaving already?” Hera asked, examining the small bowl covered in a silver foil. 

Smiling warmly, Hunter asked her to open it, and Hera carefully removed the foil paper. The first thing she saw was the note attached to the lid. 

‘A Post-it note!’

And for once it wasn’t in purple, it’s a yellow note. Hera loved purple, but Hunter didn’t know that it was not about the colour. It’s his eyes she loved the most. He thought she loved everything in purple and Hera never attempted to correct him. 

Hunter snatched the Post-it note before Hera could see the message written on it. He opened the lid covering the bowl and placed it in front of her. “Eat your dessert first, Goddess,” he said, answering her questioning gaze. Grabbing her eyes away from her favourite shining purple gems, Hera looked at the dessert. 

Clapping her hands like a happy child, she giggled when she saw what the dessert was. “What’s this, Hunter?” She asked, eyeing the contents in the bowl. Needless to say that her mouth watered. “It’s a purple Ube cake roll sandwiched between Black-currant and Vanilla ice cream. Taste it,” he said, watching as she dipped the spoon into the soft surface of the cake. 

Her eyes locked with his, and she asked with a disapproving scowl, “Dry fruits and nuts?” Hunter chuckled at her scowling face and shook his head negatively. “Just raisins and chocolate chips,” he said, and she hummed an approval before taking a bite. Hunter leaned back, relaxing his posture, one hand on his thigh and the other resting on the table. 

Eyes widened, and a smile lit up Hera’s face as she tasted the dessert, but she resisted the urge to moan this time as well. She knew he would scold her, lecturing about table manners if she did. She held up the spoon, silently offering him a bite, but he shook his head in a no. She chewed her bottom lip nervously, while he rapped his fingers on the table in a slow-motion, eyes turning into a darker shade of purple. He’s staring at her without blinking. 

‘Good God! He looks like a hungry lion ready pounce on me.’ 

She waved her hand in front of his eyes, bringing him back to earth from his private thoughts, and he cleared his throat. “Do you want to dance?” He asked out of the blue, surprising her. She shook her head, vigorously. “Not a chance, you know I don’t dance. Because I can’t dance and I don’t want to make a fool of myself here in front of everyone,” she said with finality. 

“Goddess, no one’s here, it’s just us,” he said, extending his palm, waiting for her to place hers in his. She laughed, ridiculing his plan, “Mr Hunter, there’s no music!” She said. He winked in return and snapped his fingers. 

Like magic, music started, and Hera’s jaw dropped in surprise. 

He stood up, moved across and took her hand in his. “May I have the pleasure of having this dance with you, my Lady?” He asked in his perfect British accent, and without waiting for her reply, he pulled her up from the chair. Hera hesitated and refused to acknowledge his request. “Come on, Mrs Hunter. It’s our song, and you don’t have to feel uncomfortable. We’ll do our thing in our way,” he said, and Hera laughed at his choice of words. 

She knew what he meant by our thing. 

The song ‘Crush’ by Jennifer Paige started to play in the background. Before Hera could resist, Hunter dragged her across the table, and they started slowly moving their feet in sync to the music. He had his arms locked around her waist while hers wound around his neck. 

Hera could hardly remember the last time they danced together for this song. That was two years ago, before their breakup. 

Hera was eight years old when she first heard the song. One weekend on a Saturday evening, Hunter was listening to it playing on a repeat mode in his music system at his mansion. Hera couldn’t understand the meaning of the song at that tender age, but she instantly liked the music and the tone of the song. It sounded soothing and blissful, but she’d noticed that Hunter looked sad. 

When she asked him why he’d been listening to it if the song made him sad, then he told her a story behind that song. 

Years ago, his parents were on a road trip with their friends. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, in the middle of the road, his father stopped the car and proposed marriage to his mother. The same song was playing in the background through the radio in the car at that time. Since that day it’d become his mother’s favourite, and his parents would dance to the song at least twice a week. 

Hera understood why the song made him sad, even before he admitted.