“No,” I say quietly. I pause, then add, “I’m nervous.”
He glances at me briefly.
“About my mom?”
I nod again. “She asked to see me. Just me. I don’t know what to expect.”
“You’ve already met her,” he reminds me, turning smoothly onto a quieter road. “At the dinner party. She likes you. A lot.”
I glance at him, unsure.
“That was different. That was your whole family.”
“And now it’s just her. Which makes it easier,” he says, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “I just have to warn you that she’ll want to spoil you.”
That makes me laugh under my breath, a little tension leaving my shoulders.
“She knows I can’t talk most times, right?” I ask my voice, unsure, “I mean, I can only talk to you, I’m not sure-”
“She does Krasivy,” he cuts me off gently, “you do not have to worry about that.”
I give him a grateful smile at that, and after a few more minutes, the car pulls into a small private parking area beside a beautiful French-style cafe with outdoor tables.
And then I see her.
Davika.
She’s sitting at one of the outdoor tables, a cup of something delicate in her hand, posture perfect, every inch of her radiant and composed. Her long dark hair dances in the breeze, and the light catches the gold of her necklace. She looks exactly how I remembered her—elegant and effortless, sharp-eyed but kind.
My stomach knots.
Alex kills the engine and looks over at me. I meet his eyes, still unsure. He doesn’t say anything, just brushes a strand of hair away from my eyes and gives me a reassuring smile.
“You’ll be fine,” he murmurs.
And for a second, I believe him.
“Alex,” Davika says warmly as we approach, rising from her seat. There’s a man and a woman dressed in suits, standing a few feet away from her, who are undoubtedly her bodyguards. Alex leans in and kisses his mom on the cheek, and for a second, he looks softer than I’ve ever seen him.
Then she turns to me, and that same smile holds.
“Nice to see you again, Lucas,” she says, and before I can respond, she pulls me into a gentle hug. It’s brief. Polite. But something about the way she hugs me—like I matter—makes my chest tighten a little.
She smells expensive, like white florals and a hint of sandalwood.
When she pulls back, she tilts her head just slightly and asks,
“Are you hungry? Would you like something to eat here before we go?”
I shake my head, giving her a pleasant but nervous smile. I feel young again, awkward and small under her attention.
She smiles, as if she’s used to that reaction. Then she turns her gaze to Alex, her expression shifting slightly playful, but with an undertone of something motherly and firm.
“Well, you can leave now,” she says, the way someone might dismiss a chauffeur. It’s clearly a tease, and Alex snorts like he’s used to it, his hands tucked into his pockets as he looks at his mother with something between wariness and fondness.
“I’ll pick him up by five.”
“No need. I’ll drop him off at your penthouse when we’re done.” Davika says firmly.
