“Lucas, honey,” she coos, smiling like he’s just been knighted. “I’m sorry you had to end up with someone as crazy as my son.”
Lucas gives her a shaky smile in return, lips twitching like he’s unsure if it’s safe to laugh. He’s too shy to speak, and it just makes the whole thing even funnier to me.
My mother turns to me again with a sigh that could collapse a cathedral.
“The dinner is already over,” she announces. “Your grandfather has retired for the night. Luckily, he’s not angry. He says he’ll see Lucas tomorrow at breakfast.”
“We didn’t plan on staying the night,” I reply, keeping my tone even.
“Well, now you have to,” she snaps, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
Then she turns back to Lucas, her face lighting up again with that soft, sincere warmth she always reserves for him.
“Lucas, dear,” she says gently, “you wouldn’t mind staying the night and meeting his grandfather tomorrow, right?”
He nods once, slow and hesitant.
Then his eyes flick to mine—uncertain, seeking.
He looks like he wants to ask, Do I have a choice? But I offer him a lazy smile.
“That’s good then,” my mother says, voice final like a gavel hit. “I’ll have the servers bring dinner to your room—for Lucas.”
I raise a brow. “What about me?”
She shoots me a look sharp enough to skin flesh, then exhales like she’s holding the weight of the world on her shoulders.
“Don’t forget to see your father before he goes to bed,” she says, stepping back. “He’s in his home office, but won’t be for long.”
I nod silently. Knowing what she means.
“Goodnight, Lucas,” she adds, her voice soft again. And with a final pointed glare tossed in my direction, classic Davika, she turns and walks away.
“Oh my God,” Lucas says with a mortified voice, burying his face in his hands. “I want to die.”
I reach over to gently pull his hands away from his face. Then cup his jaw, his skin hot beneath my palm.
“You’re not in trouble, krasivy,” I murmur with a smile.
He peers up at me, cheeks still flushed, eyes wide and anxious.
“You think… everyone knows what we did in here?” His voice is small, hesitant.
I could tell him who cares. That if anyone has a problem, they can go fuck themselves. But I know he needs more than bravado right now.
So I lean in and press a soft kiss to his forehead.
“Don’t worry about that,” I say quietly. “No one knows.”
He pulls back just enough to look at me again, a skeptical frown tugging at his mouth.
“Your mom knows,” he deadpans.
I grin. “Just my mom.”
He lets out a frustrated groan and drops his face against my shoulder. I can feel how tense he is, even in this ridiculous moment, and I just wrap an arm around him, pulling him closer.
“You’re so cute when you’re like this,” I say, and it’s the truth. All flushed, flustered, and embarrassed out of his mind. I live for it.
