I’ve seen them in pictures.
But pictures do not prepare you for this.
Alex’s grandfather walks slightly ahead. He’s tall, shockingly tall for his age, and dressed in a tailored dark suit that fits like it was stitched by the gods. His silver hair is slicked back, face smooth and unreadable, with sharp features and sharp eyes that seem to see through everything. The cane in his hand doesn’t make him look weak—it adds to the power, making it look like more of an accessory than a necessity. He walks with the calm assurance of a man who’s spent decades controlling empires.
Beside him walks Alex’s father.
And I… I freeze all over again.
He looks like an older version of Alex, but colder. Sharper. Like every soft part of him was carved out a long time ago. His jaw is clenched. His eyes, those same piercing blue eyes Alex has, are emotionless, but they see me. I feel it. I feel him. He doesn’t need to raise his voice. The weight of who he is does all the speaking for him.
And suddenly, I feel small and like I’ve stepped into something too big for me.
My instinct is to shrink back, to turn around and run for the heels.
But then I feel Alex’s hand press gently against the small of my back, and I look up. He’s watching me, calm, unshaken. His thumb rubs a soft line against my spine.
“Breathe, baby,” he says, voice low, just for me.
And somehow—I do.
My chest loosens just a little. My feet start to move again, guided by his.
Even if everything inside me is screaming, You don’t belong here, I keep walking.
“Dedushka,” Alex says, his voice warm as we reach them, nodding to his grandfather.
“Father,” he says again, this time with a neutral tone as he looks at his dad.
The two men pause, taking in the sight of us.
My throat goes dry. My skin feels too tight. These men, these powerful, elegant men, are nothing like the world I come from. Seeing them in pictures was one thing… but standing here, under their gaze, it feels like I’ve stepped into a place I was never meant to be. Their presence is too much, too large. It weighs on my shoulders and pushes against my chest. I try to stand tall, but I feel so small beside them.
“Sasha,” Alex’s grandfather says with a smile, but when his eyes land on me, it’s like being pierced clean through. The intensity is sharp, almost physical, prickling sweat at the back of my neck.
Alex pulls me even closer to him, his hand curling around my waist like a silent anchor.
“This is my boyfriend, Lucas,” Alex says, voice steady and firm, confident.
The word—boyfriend—hits me like a slow shock. It slides into my chest and blooms there, warm and surreal. Butterflies flutter in my stomach, but the nerves don’t ease. Not completely.
“And Lucas, this is my grandfather, Roman, and my father, Pavel.”
My stomach tightens. I open my mouth to speak, to offer something polite, respectful—but my voice betrays me. Nothing comes out. My tongue feels heavy, and frustration burns the back of my throat.
“Ah,” Roman says, a spark in his eyes, “so you are the one who stood me up yesterday?”
My heart stumbles in my chest.
“It wasn’t his fault,” Alex says quickly, calmly, like always. “I held him back. We had a situation to handle.”
Roman chuckles and extends his hand. I hesitate, then reach out, my fingers almost trembling. When his hand clasps mine, firm and warm, something in me jolts. I try not to show it, but it feels like my legs might give out from under me.
“It is nice meeting you, Lucas,” Roman says, and there’s a glint of something sharp, knowing, in his eyes. “Davika couldn’t stop raving about you to me.”
“Nice to meet you too,” I manage, barely above a whisper. I’m not even sure if he hears me. He releases my hand with a small smile, and I fight the urge to wipe my palm against my pants; it’s damp with nerves.
Then my eyes meet Alex’s father. I almost shrink back.
