She snorts. "It starts slow."
We clink glasses, and I let myself imagine the future. Tiny fingers, baby giggles, Pasha teaching his sibling to build robots, Nikolai pretending he's not wrapped around another set of little fingers.
It's perfect.
Too perfect.
Which is why, when one of the guards approaches in a hurry, I know the universe has decided I'm due for a mood swing.
"Mrs. Ivanov," he says formally. "You have a visitor."
"A visitor?"
"A woman. Says her name is Gayle."
I nearly choke on my lemonade. "I'm sorry, what?"
Gayle. My mother.
The name alone is enough to sour the citrus in my mouth.
"She's insistent," he adds carefully.
Of course she is. Gayle Donovan never met a boundary she couldn't bulldoze.
Natalia sets her glass down. "You don't have to see her."
I shake my head. "She's my mother." I don't need to explain further. Natalia knows how I was raised.
But what I want doesn't matter. Gayle doesn't take no from anyone, especially her daughter.
"Should I tell her to leave?" the guard asks.
I open my mouth to say yes. But my voice falters.
Natalia touches my arm. "If you decide to speak with her, I'll stay."
I look at her. My unexpected ally. She doesn't owe me a thing, but here she is.
"You'd do that?"
She nods. "Of course."
I steady myself. If Natalia's there, maybe Gayle will behave. And if Gayle doesn’t behave, I know one word to Nik and she’ll never bother me again. But I can’t bring myself to let him kill her. She’s my mother—even if I hate her. "Fine. Let her in."
The guard heads off. I drain the rest of my warm lemonade.
"I don't know why she's here," I mutter. "We haven't spoken since the wedding."
"Maybe she misses you," Natalia offers.
"Gayle doesn't miss people. She misses control."
"That's fair."
I force a smile. "At least you'll get front-row seats to the circus."
"If you need me to leave, I can."
