Chapter 36
THIRTY-SIX
ALEXANDER
It’s been three days.
Three days since Lucas woke up screaming from that nightmare.
Three days since I saw him flinch away from my touch—eyes wide, breath shallow, like he wasn’t even here.
Three days since he called me baby in that soft, broken voice of his, since he let me hold him, touch him, sink deep inside him while he writhed beneath me, moaning my name like it was the only thing in the world that kept him tethered.
I still hear it.
Still feel it.
The way he trembled beneath me. The way he trusted me fully and completely. His eyes wide and pleading, not with fear, but need.
He let me in.
And in return, I gave him everything.
Because it’s him. It’s always been him.
I saw it in his eyes that night, the hunger, the longing, the trust. Even after the fear, even after the nightmare, he wanted me. And I showed him just how much I needed him too, how much I was willing to wait for his truth, for his story. For him.
But fuck, waiting is hard.
It’s brutal.
Especially after seeing the haunted look in his eyes that night. The kind of fear that doesn’t come from bad dreams. The kind of fear that comes from memories.
And I keep wondering—what happened to him? What did they do to him?
Was that the night that stole his voice?
Was that when he lost his hearing?
Who hurt him? Who broke him? And how do I find and end them?
Because I will. If I ever find out, I’ll burn down the world and make them beg for mercy he never got.
My eyes drift back to the screen in front of me, half a dozen reports open across my desktop, and I haven’t read a single fucking line in hours.
The words blur, the numbers mean nothing.
All I see is him.
Lucas.
I miss him.
Even though I just saw him a few hours ago. I kissed him deeply and told him I’d be home by five for our ASL lessons.
Yes, we still do our ASL lessons.
And yes, I still pay him weekly.
It’s something that brought us together, and something I don’t want to ever stop doing.
My phone buzzes on the desk.
I glance down, assuming it’s Ashley reminding me of another meeting I plan to ignore.
But it’s not her.
Its him.
Krasivy: Your mom taught me
how to make medovik today.
[photo attached]
I read the message, and the moment the picture loads, something in my chest shifts.
Lucas is in the frame, holding up a slice of golden layered cake.
He’s smiling, a real smile. Shy, bright, honest.
His eyes are lit up, cheeks faintly pink, and standing beside him is my mother. She has one hand on his shoulder and a proud smile on her face.
They look like family.
I stare at the photo for a long time, barely breathing, a strange warmth spreading low in my chest. And then I smile too, because I can’t help it.
Alex: Did you enjoy
Making it?
Krasivy: Yes I did. It tastes
really nice. I can’t wait for
You to get home and try it
I stare at that last line for a second too long, thumb hovering over the screen.
I don’t smile often. Not genuinely. But right now, I can’t help it. It’s not the practice smile I wear in meetings. Or the forced smile I wear around people.
It’s soft. Private.
Just for him.
Alex: I’ll be home
soon Baby.
Just as I am about to type something else to him that I am sure will make him blush beautifully, A sharp ring cuts through the quiet.
My office line.
I press the speaker button with a sigh. “What again, Ashley?”
“Mr. Petrov,” Ashley’s crisp voice comes through, calm and professional as always. “Vera is here to see you.”
Just like that, the warmth drains out of me.
My jaw clenches. I stare at the phone a beat too long before answering.
“Let her in.”
It doesn’t even take a full minute.
The door swings open without hesitation, like it always does with her.
Vera steps in with the kind of self-assurance that fills the room before she even speaks. Designer heels clicking softly against the floor, slim black coat hugging her body, long red hair swept back from her sculpted face.
She doesn’t speak at first. She just walks in like she belongs.
She used to.
She takes the seat across from me, crossing one leg over the other, her gaze sliding over me with practiced ease.
Then she sighs. Long and low.
“It’s been months, Alex,” she says finally, her voice smooth but edged with something sharper, almost like a blade dressed in silk. “Seriously… when am I coming back to your bed?”
I tilt my head at that. Let the silence stretch. Then, lean back in my chair, gaze locked on her cold and unreadable.
She doesn’t flinch.
“You’ve been ignoring my calls. My texts. Every single way I’ve tried to reach you,” she says, her Russian accent curling deeper with restrained frustration. “This is the longest we’ve gone without seeing each other.”
I arch a brow. “Any idea why you’re saying that like we were ever together?”
She narrows her eyes.
“It seems you keep forgetting I made it clear from the start—it was just sex,” I add, voice flat. “You agreed to that. You kept coming back, knowing exactly what it was.”
“Yeah. No shit, Alex.” Her voice sharpens. “I know it was just sex. But you let me come back anytime I wanted. You never said no before. So tell me why now? Why him?”
I say nothing at first. Just breathe slowly. Evenly.
“I ended things with you,” I remind her. “I told you not to come back.”
Vera’s eyes darken.
She draws in a slow breath, then leans forward arms folding over her chest like armor.
“So, what?” she says, voice laced with sarcasm. “He’s that good in bed, you had to get rid of me?”
I scoff.
The sound escapes before I can stop it.
Not from cruelty— But from how absurd it is that she still believes it’s just about sex.
“You think this is about sex?” I ask, voice low “You think Lucas is just a good fuck?”
Something flickers in her eyes. She wasn’t expecting that reaction.
“He’s mine, Vera,” I say it plainly, so there’s no room for doubt. “And I’m so fucking serious about him. I won’t let you or anyone talk down on him or act like he’s just another body in my bed. I’m not letting him go. Not now. Not ever.”
I can see her battling with herself, trying to hold onto whatever edge she walked in here with.
“And what if he’s with you because of your money?” she sneers. “Maybe he’s sticking around for the extravagant spending.”
I shrug lazily. “I couldn’t care less about that,” I say with a tired sigh.
I had actually made him an authorized user on my account. The card was given to him yesterday, and he can spend and do whatever the fuck he wants. Not that he even likes spending, or shopping, or buying extravagant things.
Even though I always tell him I don’t mind.
Because I don’t.
I bought him a Cartier Love necklace and bracelet two days ago and he almost chewed my ear off about how expensive they were.
But I saw it—
The happiness in his eyes.
Even if he tried to hide it behind that shy, annoyed little scowl of his.
“You’re ridiculous, Alex,” she scoffs, clearly frustrated, leaning back in her chair. Then her gaze soften as she studies me, tone turning more serious.
“So you’re a hundred percent serious about him? Like… relationship serious?”
I give her a small nod and one of those rare smiles of mine that actually means something. I want to tell her it’s not just ‘relationship serious’, It’s I want to give him my last name ‘serious’.
But I don’t say that out loud.
Because frankly, I’m already tired of this conversation.
“Yes,” I say simply, my tone final. “I’m serious about him, Vera.”
She studies me for a long moment. Reading. Searching.
Then she sighs.
“Well,” she says, voice a little too dry, “I suppose I’ll need to be compensated for this heartbreak.”
I blink. “Excuse me?”
“I mean,” she gestures dramatically, “you’ve shattered my cold little heart, Sasha.
You’ve moved on with some innocent little freckled thing, and now I’m left all alone in this city.
The least you can do is fund my recovery.
I need to cry on something. To ease this emotional trauma, you have caused”
I stare at her, deadpan. She tilts her head in return, that deviant smirk pulling at her mouth. Then I let out a tired sigh because I already know she’s not backing down.
“God, you’re exhausting,” I mutter.
Still, I pick up my phone, tap into one of my offshore accounts, and send the transfer.
A few seconds later, her phone buzzes from the table. She snatches it up, reads the message, and that smug, victorious smile curves instantly across her lips.
“Good enough to ease your heartbreak?” I ask, dryly.
“Better than therapy,” she says, standing and adjusting her hair. “Though not nearly as satisfying as a goodbye Rough sex would’ve been.”
I don’t rise to the bait.
“I’ll be heading back to Russia soon,” she adds, adjusting the strap of her bag. “Hopefully, I never see you again, Sasha.”
“Likewise,” I reply without missing a beat. Then, more firmly, “Don’t ever speak badly about Lucas again. And if you see him, you don’t talk to him. Not a word.”
Her gaze meets mine for a beat, then she nods.
“Alright,” she says softly, with some twisted grace. “Consider that my parting gift.”
She turns for the door, heels clicking against the floor. Just before leaving, she throws one last look over her shoulder.
“Goodbye, Alex,” she says with a wink. “I’m off to shake my heartbroken ass on a yacht—with your money.”
She blows me a kiss, then disappears through the door.
The silence she leaves behind is a relief.
***
“Welcome back, Mr. Petrov,” Chris, my doorman, says as soon as I step into the private lobby of my penthouse.
“How are you, Chris?” I offer him a brisk nod.
“Very well, sir,” he replies with a polite smile. “Your mother and brother left about an hour ago.”
I give him a small nod of thanks and head toward the elevator. As the doors slide shut, I lean back against the wall, eyes on the numbers as they tick upward. My mind’s not on work anymore, or the stupid visit from Vera.