Chapter 41
FORTY-ONE
LUCAS
“What’s your grandfather like?” I ask, my voice lower than usual, my nerves making my throat feel dry.
I sit on the edge of the bed, watching Alex as he fixes the collar of his dark polo shirt in the mirror.
His biceps flex with every movement, the veins in his arms like subtle lines of power under his skin.
Hell—he always looks so effortlessly hot.
It’s almost unfair. Sometimes, just looking at him makes my knees feel weak.
How is he mine?
He said he loved me last night.
He actually said it.
My stomach flips at the memory, heat rising to my cheeks.
Alex glances at me through the mirror.
“Appearance or personality?” he asks, his tone light, pulling me out of my spiraling thoughts.
I shrug, folding my arms tightly over my chest.
“I don’t know. Both, maybe? What should I expect?”
He turns and walks toward me, his footsteps slow and assured. I still find it hard to believe someone so calm and composed can care so much about me.
He stops in front of me and gently takes one of my arms, fingers deftly adjusting the sloppy roll of my shirt sleeve. I hadn’t even noticed it was uneven, too busy being in my own head.
“He looks intimidating,” Alex says while rolling the other sleeve with the same gentle focus. “But he’s not. Not really.”
I nod slowly. “Okay.”
I breathe in his scent, warm and comforting.
“How’s your family so… accepting?” I ask after a beat. “I mean, how are they okay with us? With me being a guy and—”
“Stop spiraling, baby.” He taps my nose gently, a half-smile tugging at his lips.
“It’s normal in my family. The Petrov name has always carried…
different kinds of love. My great-grandfather, Petr, the founder of our Bratva, was gay.
His son, Dimitri, my grandfather’s twin, divorced his wife and married a man.
So it’s not just tolerated in my family. It’s part of who we are.”
I blink, startled. “So… you’re not the only queer grandchild in the family?”
“God, no.” He actually laughs, soft and warm. “Far from it.”
Something loosens in my chest, and before I can stop myself, I smile. Really smile. Relief hums quietly through me.
“Are a lot of your family coming for this gathering?”
He drops my hands and reaches up to my hair, arranging the curls on my forehead. He doesn’t rush. His fingers are careful. Soft.
“A few,” he says simply, smoothing my hair back before his hand stills. His gaze lingers on my face, and I tilt my chin slightly up to meet his eyes.
Why does he have to look at me like that? Like I’m the only thing he sees.
“You don’t have to join if you’re not ready,” he says suddenly, voice low and serious. “Or see anyone. I’ll drive you home right now if you want.”
I blink up at him, touched by how quickly he offered that he thought of me first, even with all this family pressure around him.
“I wasn’t planning to join at first,” I admit. “But… your mom was so excited. She said she wanted me to meet her sister and the rest of your family.”
I pause, chewing on my lip.
“And I’d like to know at least some of them. If… if you don’t mind.”
He studies me carefully, like he’s reading everything I didn’t say aloud. Then he nods.
“Alright,” Alex says, his tone soft but firm, the way he always speaks when he’s trying to soothe the panic I haven’t even voiced yet. “But don’t push yourself. You don’t have to talk if you’re not up for it. No one’s going to force you.”
I nod, even though I don’t know if I believe that.
I was supposed to meet his grandfather at breakfast this morning— But I never got the chance.
Apparently, he had an urgent meeting to attend.
Alex had brought me fresh clothes instead, folded neatly and left on the bed before I even woke up, and told me I’d be meeting his grandfather at the family lunch gathering instead.
I spent breakfast with Davika, Alex, Maksim, and Ivana.
Maksim, of course, didn’t stop giving me those ridiculous, teasing grins, the kind that practically screamed “I know what you two did in the car last night.” I swear, he’s lucky he’s charming or I would’ve smacked that smile off his face with a bread.
Ivana gave me the warmest hug when I came down, telling me she missed me even though we often talk on Instagram almost every day.
She followed me after that first dinner party, and I still don’t know how she even found my handle…
But I like her. She’s loud in a good way.
She’s obsessed with boys’ love dramas and keeps flooding my DMs with the latest reels—not that I’m complaining.
Because of her, I’ve actually managed to keep up with what’s trending.
But I didn’t see Alex’s brother Anton or his father. Or Igor, Ivana’s twin.
To be honest, I’m not sure I want to meet Alex’s father.
Alex doesn’t talk about him much. Hardly at all, actually. When he mentions family, it’s almost always his grandfather. There’s a kind of distance in his voice whenever the topic of his dad comes up—if it ever does.
Are they not close?
Does his father even know about me?
I mean… he has to, right?
But knowing about me is different from liking me. I don’t know if I can handle being looked at like I don’t belong here. Like, I’m just some poor, Deaf boy Alex brought home on a whim.
I open my mouth to ask, just to get it out, even if the answer terrifies me, but a knock interrupts the thought. Alex leans down and presses a kiss to my forehead before walking to the door.
When he opens it, a warm, professional voice immediately fills the room.
“Mr. Alexander,” a woman says politely, “the family has started arriving. Your mother asked that you and Mr. Lucas come downstairs now.”
I swallow.
This is it.
***
Alex guides me down the wide stairs, his hand steady around mine.
My heart’s beating so hard it feels like it’s knocking against my ribs, loud enough for him to hear.
We walk the long hallway that leads to the outdoor courtyard where lunch is being hosted, and I already know the place is full—laughter and conversations leak through the air like music meant for someone else’s world, not mine.
Just as we’re about to round the final corner that leads outside, a door to our left opens.
A man steps out first, he’s dressed in the sleek black uniform all the mansion’s bodyguards wear, built like a wall and moving with precision. He holds the door open like he’s waiting for someone, and something in me tenses immediately. Then, two men step out.
I stop walking.
Alex does too.
They don’t say a word, but they don’t have to. Their presence alone is enough to make the air shift.
I know them.
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.”