I rub at my temple, the documents on my desk blurring together until they may as well be blank. My mind isn’t here. Hasn’t been for days.
Ashley clears her throat, soft but pointed, the way she does when she’s about to say something I’d rather ignore.
“Your mother asked me to remind you about dinner tonight. Seven sharp. She was… quite specific.”
I almost sigh. Of course. The weekly performance at the estate, everyone seated at that endless table under my mother’s watchful eye.
Ashley doesn’t move. She studies me in that discreet way she always does, gaze lingering on the tension in my jaw.
“You seem… preoccupied, Mr. Petrov”
Preoccupied. That’s one word for it. Obsessed would be closer. Consumed, maybe.
“I’m fine,” I mutter, flicking a hand to dismiss the thought before she can press further.
She hesitates, then tilts her head. “And how’s the private sign language class going?”
That stops me.
“Slow,” I admit, then after a beat, “but… good. Better than nothing.”
Her mouth curves into the faintest smile. “Slow means you’re still moving forward.”
I nod, though the truth bites harder. Standing there while he scribbles on scraps of paper or his phone, watching him struggleto make me understand—every second of it feels wrong. I want to meet him where he is. To erase that barrier.
Ashley straightens, professionalism snapping back into place. “I’ll confirm your attendance for dinner.”
And then she’s gone, leaving me alone with the silence and the restless hum of the city beyond the glass.
But my mind is nowhere near the city. It’s caught in a loop of pale freckles, wide eyes, and the way his gaze burned when it locked with mine.
* * *
The gates glide open without hesitation as my car approaches. The security guard nods, recognizing the license plate. The Pavel estate stands just beyond, three stories of sleek, modern architecture softened by the subtle Thai-inspired touches my mother insisted on. My mother’s roots are stitched carefully into every corner—warm lantern-style lights and delicate carvings along the entry pillars.
The tires crunch over gravel as I roll up the long curve of the drive. By the time I reach the entrance, two staff are already waiting. One moves for the door, but I wave him off, stepping out with my jacket slung over my shoulder. I’m late.
Inside, the familiar scent hits first—lemongrass and something faintly floral, my mother’s touch. The marble floors gleam beneath soft chandelier light, and the walls are decorated in a perfect balance of modern wealth and old money.
“Welcome, Mr. Alexander,” a server murmurs as I pass.
I nod, already heading toward the dining room.
The low hum of conversation filters out before I even reach the double doors. When I step inside, the entire family is already seated. My father sits at the head of the table, posture straight as a ruler, dark hair streaked with silver but neatly combed back. He wears authority like a second skin, and I hate how much ofhis face I see when I look in the mirror. The same jaw. The same blue eyes. His blue eyes.
My mother sits to his right, her dark brown hair pinned up with a golden clasp, diamond jewelry glinting against smooth skin. Her emerald green silk blouse brings out the warmth in her sharp gaze. There’s affection there, yes, but underlined with an unspoken authority. She rules this house as much as my father does. Maybe more. She’s smiling, but the moment her eyes land on me, the smile tightens.
“Alex,” she chides gently, “Late again?”
“Traffic,” I mutter, sliding into my seat.
The table stretches too long for five people, but the servers fill it anyway, as they move around quietly, placing dishes with practiced precision.
Anton, my older brother, doesn’t bother lifting his head, fingers scrolling over his phone, his silence louder than anything else. Maksim, on the other hand, leans back in his chair, a grin already in place.
“Thought you forgot we existed,” he drawls, raising his glass in mock salute. “Or maybe you’re too busy perfecting the whole mysterious businessman act.”
I don’t bother looking at him. I just reach for the water, ignoring the jab.
