“Look at this beautiful art.” Mrs. Ivanov pointed to a few of them. “Always Dima complained about my wanting to have these commissioned. But now I’m sure he understands. Look at the many faces of my darling boy.”
“Very. . .cool.”
To say that his mother loved him would be a drastic understatement. I didn’t have any children, so I couldn’t judge the way a mother loved her child. However, I did think that the oil paintings were a bit much.
I was definitely still trying to figure her out. I hadn’t decided if I liked her or not. I’d become protective of Dima. I hated how she left him at the boarding school. I wasn’t a mother, but I found it unforgiveable.
But. . .sometimes things aren’t always so black and white.
Ms. Ivanov gave me an odd expression. “This is a big deal that Dima brought you here.”
“Honestly, he didn’t bring me here. You invited us.”
“Dima would’ve said no, which would have told me that the woman with him wasn’t important enough to be in my presence. He’s done so before.”
“Really?”
“If he is dating a woman for more than three dates, then I happen to bump into them. I’ll invite them over and he always shook his head with a defiant no.” She walked around me. “It told me they weren’t worthy to sit at my table. They were just for his pleasure.”
I followed her with my gaze.
She pointed at me. “But with you, he was shy and nervous. I could tell my first impression of you mattered. And then I invited you both over and he didn’t clearly proclaim no.”
“Or he was sad at a funeral and hoped to spend time with his family.”
“Hmmm.” She strolled over to the painting of a preteen Dima. It was the most awkward one in the room. His eyes held fear while a smile covered his face. It was also the first image where he had on a school uniform.
Is this when he started going to boarding school?
I walked over to the painting with her.
“My son is on a different wave length.” She frowned at the image. “He needs someone that can vibrate with him.”
She continued, “There are. . .things you may not know about him. I. . .”
I looked at her.
“I want to tell you now, so that if there is a problem, then you leave now and not break his heart.”
“He told me about his having Asperger’s.”
“He did?” She quirked her brows.
“Yes.”
She turned to me and moved in, closing a foot of space between us. “And your thoughts?”
“I’m fine with it. I think he’s a brilliant, romantic man.”
She leaned her head to the side. “But there are reservations?”
“There are.” I cleared my throat. “Ones that deal with his position, not his mind.”
“His position?”
“The Diamond Syndicate.”
“Oh, that?” She walked off. “You’ll adjust.”
I blinked.
“Sexual relationships with women has never been a problem with Dima, but connection has always been difficult.” She stopped in the middle of the big doorway and faced me. “I want my son to experience love. Have a strong connection.”
“I understand, Mrs. Ivanov, but what we have going on is very new—”
“I don’t want him to be alone when my brothers and I are dead.”
“I get it.”
“It’s a challenge for most couples to find a balance between their needs and their partner’s needs. In a relationship where one individual is on the spectrum, there is more misunderstanding. More frustration.”
Tension filled my chest.
“So.” She held out her hands. “If you’re not ready for something real, then end it quickly so he can find someone to truly love him. Fully.”
I widened my eyes.
“My staff should have the garden ready.” She smiled and headed off. “We’re eating there. You’ll love it.”
I followed her up a set of stairs.
It was hard to get the bits of anxiety out of my head.
Was she correct? Should I hurry to figure this out?
I’d been enjoying Dima in these past days, pretending that we could exist within his penthouse. The newspapers reporting on us died down after a few days. Granted, my family continued to complain, but I’d long deafened my ears to their critics.
Could Dima and I work?
At the top of the stairs, Mrs. Ivanov led me to the other end. We approached glass doors. She turned gold knobs and opened them.
I expected to see a balcony. Instead, it was an interior garden with a massive glass roof. I looked up. The sky was still dark.
“This is. . .amazing.” I walked inside.
A small man-made waterfall was in the back of the breathtaking garden that spread out at least fifty feet on all sides. Water spilled and trickled. Potted lemon trees flanked the entrance. There were living walls on all sides.
Stepping in further, I spotted an herb garden on the right. White sticks held labels with the plant’s names—basil, rosemary, lavender, thyme, etc.