Chapter 22 #2
I recognized him instantly from the art gallery. His eyes are the same: curious, amused, calculating. He’s tall, handsome, and charismatic in a loud way that draws attention whether he tries to or not. He stands with a small group of people.
The attention shifts like a ripple in the room. Subtle, but real. People begin turning, whispers passing like thin trails of smoke through the crowd. Their eyes land on us—on Alex, on me. I feel it in my spine. My skin itches. I grip the champagne glass harder.
Maksim steps forward and pulls Alex into a hug more forceful than it needs to be. I notice Alex’s hand slide off my back as he does, like he’s bracing himself.
“Always showing up late as usual,” Maksim grins. “And who do we have here?”
His eyes flick to me. There’s no malice. Just interest, the kind that makes me feel like I’m being studied.
And so the introductions begin.
Alex starts by introducing me to his brothers. There’s Maksim—whom I already know a little about and then his older brother, Anton.
There’s something about Anton that makes my instincts stir.
He feels like the most dangerous one in the room.
He seems as quiet as Alex, but colder somehow.
He watches me through clear-framed glasses, his gaze sharp and unreadable, like he’s trying to dissect me without a word.
His matte black hair is slicked back, his cheekbones sharp, jaw set like stone.
There’s an intensity in his eyes that pins me in place. It’s icy and calculating.
I look away quickly, before that stare can unravel me. Before I end up shrinking behind Alex like a shadow.
Next to Anton stands Viktor, who Alex explains is his best friend and cousin.
I brace myself for another cold stare, the same cutting sharpness I’d gotten from Anton and Alex—but Viktor’s eyes are different.
Gentler. Less curious, less demanding. He’s lean and muscular, though not in the same intimidating way as Alex.
His features are sharp; his face is handsome.
He looks like the softer, more human version of Alex.
Then there are the twins—Ivana and Igor—identical whirlwinds with dark hair and matching features. Ivana radiates style and playfulness, while Igor carries a quiet confidence that feels like controlled chaos. He looks composed, but something about him says trouble.
I offer everyone a polite nod and a smile—not that I can say anything out loud. But none of them seems to mind that I don’t speak.
Then Alex asks, “Where are Mom and Dad?”
Maksim shrugs. “Dad caught a fever this morning. Nothing serious, but he’s locked himself in his room like it’s the plague.”
Alex’s expression doesn’t change, but I can tell he’s listening carefully.
“Mom, though—ah, speak of the devil.”
I follow Maksim’s gaze.
She walks toward us with grace that makes the entire room seem to part around her.
No drama, no grand entrance, just quiet authority.
She’s dressed in an elegant navy gown that falls perfectly over her slender figure, her black hair pulled into a sleek twist, and diamond jewelry glints against her smooth, tanned skin.
Her features are delicate, undeniably Thai, and strikingly beautiful. She smiles as she approaches.
“Alex,” she says gently, warmth blooming in her voice. “You’re here.”
Alex’s face softens. “Mother.”
She reaches up to touch his face lightly, brushing something invisible from his cheek. Then her eyes land on me.
“And you must be Lucas.”
I swallow. My hands are suddenly clammy. I nod my head slightly in greeting and give her a small, unsure smile. Alex told her about me?
She takes one of my hands and pats it gently.
“You look so…” I think she’s looking for a word to say to me as her eyes roam my face approvingly, “beautiful.”
I blink, stunned.
“I am Davika, Alexander’s mother,” she says sweetly, “and I have heard a lot about you.”
I glance up at Alex, who doesn’t say anything. He just takes a slow sip of champagne. He’s been telling her about me? What exactly?
Alex’s mother leans closer to him, her voice low enough that I can’t catch the words. But then I see Alex nod. Her hand rests gently on his arm before she turns to me with another soft smile.
“Lucas, it was lovely to finally meet you,” she says. “I hope we’ll have time to talk later. I need to go greet the other guests.”
I nod quickly, offering her a nervous smile. She doesn’t linger—she glides away like a queen slipping through a ballroom, her presence never once dimming as she walks to another set of people who are gathered. From the corner of my eye, I see Anton walking away, too.
Alex turns to me. His voice is soft, almost apologetic.
“I need to go talk to my father. I’ll be back soon, okay?”
My fingers tighten around the thin stem of the champagne glass. I want to reach out, grab his hand, and tell him to stay. Don’t leave me here with all these people. Don’t leave me with my thoughts. But I bite down on the feeling and press my lips together, nodding instead.
Go. I’ll babysit Lucas.” Maksim says, stepping forward.
Alex gives him a flat look, and his gaze shifts to Viktor, who’s standing a little behind the others. They don’t say a word—just exchange a look. A brief moment. Viktor nods once.
Alex gives me one last glance before turning and walking away. I almost lift my hand to stop him. But I stop myself. I just stand there, watching his back disappear into the crowd.
My stomach knots.
“Don’t look so haunted,” Ivana whispers. “He’ll be back before the wine goes dry.”
She tries to ease the tension, and it almost works. She starts telling me things about herself, such as how she dislikes her university in Russia and plans to transfer to Blackwood soon, and how she struggles to get used to the pastries in America because they’re too sweet.
Just then, a woman’s laugh catches my attention in the small crowd. I search with my eyes, and that’s when my eyes land on her.
Vera.
She’s in a sleek, black floor-length dress, red hair swept back like she owns the world. Her laughter cuts through the chatter, high and sweet. Davika is laughing alongside her. They talk like they have been friends for years.
Does Alex introduce everyone he hooks up with to his family? Am I hooking up with Alex? I don’t even know at this point.
A strange tightness coils in my stomach.
“I didn’t know Vera was going to be here,” Maksim says, his voice all too casual, but I can hear the mischief.
“She’s one of the faces of your mom’s beauty brand,” Ivana replies, her voice flat. “Of course she’s here.”
“I get why Alex won’t stop fucking her,” Igor says with a smirk. “Look at those curves.”
The words slam into me. Something inside my chest goes sharp and cold. Viktor chokes on his drink. Maksim snickers. Ivana glares at Igor and mutters,
“Read the room, dumb ass.”
Igor looks at her, confused. I keep my face blank, but the ice inside me spreads. Then I pull out my phone and type:
Where’s the bathroom, please?
Ivana glances at it, then points.
“Down that hallway. First door to your left.”
I nod, excuse myself silently, and walk fast, not looking back. The world feels too loud, too warm. I need somewhere quiet, a place to fall apart without anyone watching.
Inside the bathroom, I close the door and lean against it. My chest rises and falls like I’ve run a marathon. I don’t look in the mirror. I know what I’ll see. That shaken look that I swore I’d stop letting people cause.
I rinse my face and gently pat it dry. Trying to rebuild whatever poise I had left. I count to ten backwards again and again until I feel the nausea subside.
Then I open the door.
She’s standing there. Right outside. Arms folded, and that same smug, perfect smile on her lips.
Vera.
I don’t move. Neither does she. Her eyes scan me like I’m an exhibit.
“Hi, I’m glad you came,” she says, voice warm and silky. It’s a lie, wrapped in perfume and pretty teeth. “We didn’t get to properly talk earlier.”
Talk?
I say nothing. I can’t. And something about that only seems to delight her.
Her smile sharpens. “Lucas, right?”
The sound of my name from her lips makes my skin crawl. I nod once. Nothing more.
She steps closer, slow and graceful, like a predator trying not to spook her prey.
“You’re the new… fascination,” she says, her words dipped in poison, delivered sweet.
I want to step back. But I don’t. I stand there, heart banging against my ribs, eyes on hers. She tilts her head, eyes raking over me like I’m some fragile little thing.
“You don’t talk,” she muses. “I guess Sasha needs the silence. He’s always had… noise in his life. Maybe he finds you peaceful. Simple.”
It’s an insult wrapped in silk.
And it cuts. I couldn’t help but glare at her. She laughs softly, flipping her hair.
“Oh, Lucas, I’m not here to fight you. I know Alexander’s bisexual, but I didn’t know he was into inexperienced twinks or femboys.”
Inexperienced twinks or femboys? What the hell is this woman talking about? Yeah, I know I am inexperienced with some things, but how does she know?
She must have read my mind because she scoffs and leans in, close enough that I can feel the heat of her breath.
“He chokes. Pins. and likes control.” A pause. “I am one hundred percent sure you’ve never had that before, your innocent look gives it away.”
The hallway feels smaller. The walls are tighter. I don’t step back, but I want to. I want to run, at the same time, I want to punch her and scream in her face. My fingers dig into my palm until I feel pain. I tell myself not to show anything, not to let her win. But inside, something’s unraveling.
She steps back, that same infuriating smile still on her lips.
“I also know you’re with him just for his money, Lucas,” she says with a smile. “Make sure you milk a lot from him before he gets tired of you.”
And with that, she walks away. I have never been as stunned as I am right now in my entire life.
I stand there, alone in the hallway, the taste of shame and confusion thick in my throat.
And I can’t help but wonder if she’s right.
If I’m too innocent.
If I’m here with Alexander because of his money, but I know I’m not. I have never once agreed to anything with Alex because of his money.
I stay frozen. The echo of her heels still rings in my ears even though she’s already gone.
The hallway is empty now, but it feels as if the walls are closing in. Her words are still hovering in the air, sinking into my skin, one by one.
I hate her.
I hate that she got under my skin so easily. I hate that I let her.
My heart’s still racing. My fingers tremble where they grip my phone. I don’t realize how hard I hold onto it until I hear a soft footstep behind me.
“Lucas.”
I turn. His presence and voice hit me like they always do—anchoring and overwhelming.
Alex.
He looks at me, expression unreadable at first, but something shifts in his eyes as they scan my face. He notices. The tension. The too-tight grip on my phone. The way I try not to meet his eyes. He steps closer. No one else could make a hallway feel like it suddenly belonged only to us.
“Everyone’s moving to the backyard for dinner,” he says, voice low.
I nod slowly, but I don’t move. Not yet.
He frowns, just barely.
“What’s wrong?”
The question makes something in my chest tighten. I want to fall into him and just stay there. But instead, I shake my head.
He doesn’t buy it. And closes the space between us, so close that his scent and warmth make me want to wrap myself around him.
“Did someone say something to you?” he asks, and it’s quiet, but there’s a dangerous edge to his voice.
“No,” I manage to say, looking up at him and masking whatever emotions that are on my face, “I’m fine, I just wanted a little break from the crowd. It was a little bit loud with my hearing aid.”
He studies my face for a while, and I let him. The look he’s giving me says he doesn’t believe me, but he sighs and steps back.
“Come on,” he murmurs. “You don’t have to talk. Just stay beside me.”
And even though part of me still feels like I’m falling apart, I move toward him. Because being next to him—right now—is the only place that feels remotely safe.
He walks beside me, one hand gently resting on the small of my back like he knows I need the steady pressure. Like he’s silently saying, I’m here.