Chapter 20 Her Pictures #2
A gray-haired man in a tailored black suit stood waiting in the marble-floored entrance hall.
He straightened immediately, posture crisp, voice calm and courteous.
“Mr. Graves,” he greeted with a polite bow.
His gaze softened as it fell on Mia. “And you must be Mrs. Graves.” A warm smile followed his words as he stepped aside to let them in.
“Hi, Thomas,” Alexander replied, his tone carrying quiet familiarity.
They walked deeper into the mansion, footsteps echoing softly. The scent of polished wood and expensive perfume hung faintly in the air. When they entered the grand living room, a woman seated elegantly on a velvet sofa looked up. Her eyes widened the moment she saw them.
“Mia,” the woman breathed, rising swiftly. Her expression shifted from shock to radiant joy as she crossed the room in two graceful, eager strides and wrapped Mia in an unexpected, tight hug.
Mia froze for a second, caught off guard by the warmth and intensity of the embrace. Her arms hovered awkwardly before she slowly returned it. Her wide eyes flickered toward Alexander in silent question.
She pulled back just enough to look at her face.
“I’m Camila. Alexander’s mom.” Her smile deepened, eyes shining with affection.
Camila moved with effortless grace, wearing a soft cream blouse tucked into a flowing beige skirt that fell just above her ankles.
A thin gold belt cinched her waist, delicate pearl earrings catching the light, and a simple gold bracelet adorned her wrist. Her hair was styled in loose waves, framing a face that radiated warmth.
Without giving Mia a moment to recover, she caught her hand again and gently tugged her toward a low table laden with elegantly wrapped boxes and silk bags. “These are for you,” she said brightly.
Mia’s lips parted in surprise. “For… me?”
“Yes, of course.” Camila laughed lightly, steering her toward the sofa with surprising enthusiasm.
“Sit. You must be tired.” She guided Mia down beside her as a servant glided into the room, placing a silver tray of drinks and delicacies on the table.
The faint scent of citrus and rose filled the air.
Camila reached for a glass of juice and offered it to her with both hands. “Here. Try this. If you want anything else, tell the staff—they’ll bring it.”
Mia accepted the glass carefully, her nerves easing a little under Camila’s kindness. “No, this is perfect. Thank you.” She took a small sip; the cool sweetness of the juice calmed her racing heart.
But when she looked up again, Camila was still watching her—eyes bright, curious, full of admiration. The attention made Mia shift slightly, her fingers brushing the rim of the glass in quiet discomfort.
Alexander’s low exhale broke the moment. “Mom,” he said flatly, tone edged with irritation. “Stop staring. She’s a woman, not a museum piece. Have you looked enough?”
Camila blinked, then burst into a soft, delighted laugh.
“I can hardly believe you are married,” she teased, turning back to Mia with an affectionate smile.
“You’re so pretty.” She reached out, patting Mia’s hand as though she’d already accepted her as family.
“Go home,” she said breezily to Alexander, waving a dismissive hand at him.
“Leave her here for a few days. You can come back next month to pick her up.”
Mia flushed, awkward and pleased.
Alexander’s expression immediately hardened the moment Camila suggested keeping Mia. “Mom,” he said sharply, frowning, “she’s not a doll you can just keep and return.” His voice carried a hint of offense at the very idea of leaving Mia behind.
Camila only hummed and said under her breath, “We’ll see.”
The private little retort made Alexander’s jaw twitch with irritation, but when his eyes flicked to Mia they were immediately worried and protective.
Changing the topic with practiced ease, Camila clapped her hands, her eyes sparkling. She grabbed a stack of boxes from the coffee table and began opening them with delighted energy, pushing the contents toward Mia as though presenting a trove of hidden treasures.
“I saved these gifts for you,” she announced, her voice bubbling with genuine pleasure.
Mia’s eyes widened as rings, bangles, waist chains, diamond studs, watches, and other glittering trinkets were displayed before her.
Camila picked up a set of jewelry trimmed in green stones, holding it out with pride.
“I gave my first daughter-in-law one like this,” she said, smiling warmly.
“I made three similar designs so I could give each of my daughters-in-law one day.”
Before Mia could say a word, Camila reached across and tilted a small silk pouch over her palms. A handful of bite-sized gold bars tumbled out, landing with a soft clink against Mia’s skin. She froze, staring down at the warm, heavy metal in her hands, her mouth slightly agape.
“Take them,” Camila urged, her eyes alight with delight.
Mia whispered, “Wow,” her voice barely audible, as Camila continued speaking.
“These are gold bars. You can stack them in your bedroom like a pyramid—it’ll look beautiful—or sell them and get something for yourself.” She watched Mia, satisfaction plain in her face, a small proud smile curling her lips.
Camila’s expression softened for a moment, maternal warmth radiating from her, before it snapped hard as her gaze flicked to Alexander.
Her voice dropped low, carrying a sharp edge of warning.
“And Alexander,” she said, her tone half playful menace, half threat, “if you pull any tricks on her, or make her sad, I’ll break your face.
” Beneath the jest, there was a tangible chill, the seriousness of the threat unmistakable.
Alexander met his mother’s eyes with a cold, steady stare. He stood. “Mia must be tired. I’ll take her up to my room,” he said, rising from his seat.
Camila looked reluctant, but when Alexander extended his hand to help Mia up she took it.
Mia bent forward, trying to gather the boxes and gold in her arms. It was a comical sight—her small hands struggling to hold everything at once. A pair of bracelets tumbled to the floor, thumping softly on the rug, gold bars falling .
“Leave those here, Mia,” Camila said, laughing as she watched the small chaos. “Thomas will take them to your room.”
Mia grinned, setting the gifts carefully back on the table before rising to her feet.
She smoothed her dress down with both hands, a nervous little habit, and turned to face Alexander.
He was already beside her, close enough that the faint warmth of his body brushed against her arm.
Without a word, his hand found hers, his long fingers intertwining with hers.
The simple touch sent a quiet tremor through her chest.
“Come,” he murmured, his voice low, and led her toward the grand staircase.
Thomas followed a few steps behind, his arms laden with the tower of gifts, gold bars, and velvet boxes. Their footsteps echoed softly against the polished marble floors as they ascended the wide staircase lined with portraits and chandeliers that glittered overhead.
At the end of the hall, Alexander pushed open a tall wooden door and ushered her inside.
His old bedroom was spacious, luxurious yet masculine. The walls were a deep slate gray, with tall windows draped in heavy curtains that brushed the floor. A massive bed dominated the center of the room, covered in crisp white sheets and dark pillows.
The faint scent of sandalwood and clean linen lingered in the air, blending with something distinctly his. A crystal decanter sat on a corner table beside a row of neatly arranged books.
Thomas placed the gifts carefully on the table until the surface was almost overflowing with jewelry boxes, silk bags, and the glint of gold. Then, with a polite bow, he turned and slipped out, closing the door behind him with a muted click.
Silence settled over the room.
Alexander turned toward Mia, their hands still linked. The faintest smile tugged at his lips, softening the sharpness of his features. “I thought you were going to refuse my mother’s gifts.”
Mia’s face turned serious at once. “Mr. Graves, I never say no to gifts.” Her eyes were wide and clear, her voice earnest, a faint crease forming between her brows as if slightly offended by the very thought of refusing a gift.
Alexander’s lips twitched, fighting back a laugh. He turned his head slightly, the corner of his mouth curving as he looked away to hide his amusement.
Mia frowned faintly, tilting her head. “Do you… want me to give them back to your mom?”
At that, Alexander moved closer. He slid an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him. The sudden closeness made her breath catch, her hands instinctively resting on his chest.
“Of course not,” he said firmly, his voice a low rumble near her ear.
“You’re my wife now. These are yours to keep.
” His gaze lingered on her lips before dipping lower.
“In fact,” he continued, a faint smirk forming, “you should never return them. Don’t lock them away — wear them. I’ll bring you more gifts.”
Mia’s lips curved into a small smile. “Okay,” she murmured, nodding.
Just then, a sudden ring sliced through the stillness, shattering the quiet.
Alexander exhaled through his nose, pulling out his phone.
“Yeah?” he said, his voice instantly slipping into that cool, businesslike tone Mia had come to recognize. His expression hardened, brows drawing together as he listened in silence. A moment later, he gave a short, clipped “fine” and ended the call.
He lowered his phone and slowly removed his arm from around her waist, stepping back and freeing her from his hold. The warmth of his touch lingered on her skin even as he turned away.
Then, he moved toward the door and stopped. His hand gripped the handle, twisted it.
Nothing.
He tried again, harder this time. The latch didn’t budge.
“What the—” he muttered, his jaw tightening. “It’s locked from the outside.”