The car ride to Theo’s mother’s house was thick with silence, the kind that hummed with unspoken words and the electric charge of Mira’s nerves. She sat stiffly in the passenger seat of Theo’s sleek black Mercedes, her fingers twisting the hem of her dress—a deep emerald green, modest but clinging just enough to remind her of the way Theo’s eyes had darkened when he’d seen her in it.
*Too much?* she’d asked, smoothing her hands over the fabric.
*Perfect,* he’d murmured, his voice rough. *She’ll like that you made an effort.*
Now, as the car glided through the winding roads of Brentwood, Mira’s stomach twisted. She’d met boyfriends’ parents before, but this wasn’t the same. This wasn’t some nervous college kid bringing home his girlfriend for Thanksgiving. This was *Theodore Kane*, billionaire, power broker, a man who could buy and sell entire city blocks with a snap of his fingers. And this was his *mother*—a woman who, according to the few details Theo had let slip, was sharp as a blade and twice as lethal when crossed.
Mira exhaled slowly, watching the mansions blur past the window. *You can do this. You’re charming. You’re smart. You’ve handled boardrooms full of men who wanted to eat you alive.*
But none of them had been Theo’s mother.
Theo’s hand settled on her knee, his fingers warm even through the fabric of her dress. “You’re overthinking.”
Mira turned her head, meeting his gaze. His dark eyes were unreadable, but there was a hint of amusement in the curve of his lips. “How do you know?”
“Because I can *hear* it.” His thumb traced a slow circle over her kneecap, sending a shiver up her spine. “Relax. She’s going to love you.”
Mira arched a brow. “You sound very sure of that.”
Theo’s smile deepened, his fingers tightening just a fraction. “I am.”
The car turned onto a long, tree-lined driveway, the headlights cutting through the dusk. At the end of the drive stood a sprawling Mediterranean-style villa, its warm terracotta walls glowing in the golden light of the setting sun. Mira’s breath caught.
*This* was where Theo had grown up.
Theo parked the car and turned off the engine, the sudden silence deafening. He turned to her, his expression unreadable. “Ready?”
Mira swallowed hard. “No.”
Theo chuckled, low and rough, the sound sending a jolt of heat straight to her core. “Good. That means you’ll be sharp.” He leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “And Mira?”
She shivered. “Yes?”
“Don’t let her intimidate you.” His breath was warm against her skin. “She’ll try.”
Before Mira could respond, he was out of the car, rounding the hood to open her door. She took his offered hand, letting him pull her to her feet, their bodies brushing just close enough to make her pulse spike.
Theo’s fingers lingered on hers for a beat too long before he released her, his gaze dropping to her mouth. For a moment, Mira thought he might kiss her—really kiss her, the way she’d been aching for since that almost-kiss in the restaurant. But then he stepped back, his expression shuttering.
“Let’s go,” he said, his voice rough.
Mira followed him up the stone path to the front door, her heels clicking against the pavers. Before they could knock, the door swung open, revealing a petite woman with Theo’s same dark eyes and sharp cheekbones. She wore a simple black dress, her silver-streaked hair pulled back into a sleek chignon, and her gaze was assessing, missing nothing.
“Mama,” Theo said, his voice warm in a way Mira hadn’t heard before. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to his mother’s cheek. “You look beautiful.”
Elena Kane’s lips curved, just slightly. “Flattery will get you nowhere, *anak*.” Her gaze flicked to Mira, sharp and assessing. “And you must be Mira.”
Mira forced a smile, extending her hand. “It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs. Kane.”
Elena ignored the offered hand, stepping forward to pull Mira into a quick, firm hug. “Call me Elena,” she said, her voice brisk but not unkind. “And come in. Dinner is almost ready.”
Mira followed her inside, hyperaware of Theo’s presence behind her, the heat of his body just inches from hers. The house was warm, the air rich with the scent of garlic and ginger and something sweet—ube, maybe, or pandan. The walls were lined with family photos, candid shots of Theo as a boy, his grin wide and unguarded in a way she’d never seen on him before.
Elena led them into a formal dining room, the table already set with gleaming silverware and delicate porcelain. A spread of dishes covered the table—adobo glistening in its dark sauce, sinigang bubbling in a clay pot, pancit noodles tangled in a silver serving dish, and a whole roasted lechon, its skin crackling under the chandelier’s light.
Mira’s stomach growled, and she pressed a hand to her abdomen, mortified.
Elena’s lips twitched. “Sit,” she said, gesturing to the chairs. “Eat.”
Theo pulled out a chair for Mira, his fingers brushing the small of her back as she sat. The touch was brief, but it sent a jolt of heat through her, her skin tingling where he’d touched her.
Elena took her seat at the head of the table, her gaze flicking between them. “So,” she said, serving herself a generous portion of adobo. “Mira. Tell me about yourself.”
Mira’s fingers tightened around her fork. *Here we go.*
---
The first test came before the first bite.
Elena’s gaze was sharp, her smile polite but probing. “Theo tells me you work in finance.”
Mira nodded, reaching for the serving spoon in the sinigang. “Yes. I’m a senior analyst at Sterling & Voss.”
“Hmm.” Elena’s hum was noncommittal. “And how did you and Theo meet?”
Mira’s pulse spiked. She’d rehearsed this answer a dozen times, but now, under Elena’s scrutiny, the words felt flimsy. “At a charity gala,” she said smoothly. “We were seated at the same table.”
Elena’s brows lifted. “And you *hit it off*?”
Mira’s cheeks warmed. “Something like that.”
Theo’s knee brushed against hers under the table, a silent reassurance. She shot him a glance, but his expression was unreadable, his attention on his mother.
Elena’s gaze flicked between them, her lips curving. “Theo doesn’t usually bring women home.”
Mira’s stomach twisted. *Oh, this is bad.*
Theo’s voice was calm, but there was an edge to it. “Mama.”
Elena ignored him, her gaze locked on Mira. “You must be special.”
Mira forced a laugh, light and easy. “I don’t know about that. But I *do* make a mean lumpia.”
Elena’s eyes gleamed. “Is that so?”
Mira nodded, seizing the opening. “My lola’s recipe. She’d disown me if I didn’t bring them to a family dinner.”
Elena’s lips twitched. “And where is your family from?”
“Manila,” Mira said. “My parents immigrated when I was five.”
Elena’s expression softened, just slightly. “Ah. So you know the pressure.”
Mira’s fingers stilled around her fork. *Pressure.* The word hung in the air, heavy and loaded.
Theo’s voice was tight. “Mama.”
Elena waved a hand, dismissing him. “I’m just making conversation, *anak*.” Her gaze returned to Mira. “Theo’s father was a hard man. He expected perfection.”
Mira’s breath caught. She’d known Theo’s father was a self-made tycoon, that he’d built Kane Industries from the ground up. But she hadn’t known he’d been *hard*.
Theo’s jaw tightened, his fingers curling into a fist on the table. “We’re not here to talk about him.”
Elena’s gaze flicked to her son, her expression unreadable. “No,” she agreed. “We’re here to get to know *Mira*.”
Mira’s pulse pounded in her throat. She could feel the weight of Theo’s tension, the way his body had gone rigid beside her. She reached under the table, her fingers brushing against his knee. His muscles jumped under her touch, but he didn’t pull away.
Elena’s gaze dropped to the movement, her lips curving. “You’re very tactile,” she observed.
Mira’s cheeks burned. “I—”
“It’s a good quality,” Elena said, cutting her off. “Shows confidence.” She leaned back in her chair, studying Mira. “Theo needs someone who isn’t afraid to challenge him.”
Theo’s voice was low, dangerous. “Mama.”
Elena ignored him, her gaze locked on Mira. “Do you challenge him, Mira?”
Mira’s heart hammered. She could feel Theo’s eyes on her, burning into the side of her face. She lifted her chin, meeting Elena’s gaze head-on. “Every chance I get.”
Elena’s lips curved, slow and satisfied. “Good.”
Theo exhaled sharply, his fingers tightening around Mira’s under the table.
---
The rest of dinner passed in a blur of questions and answers, Elena’s interrogation shifting from subtle to direct and back again. Mira fielded them all—where she’d gone to school, what her parents did, whether she wanted children (a loaded question if Mira had ever heard one)—with a smile and a steady voice.
But it was the stories that saved her.
“Tell me about your lola,” Elena said, sipping her wine. “Theo says she taught you to cook.”
Mira’s chest warmed at the memory. “She was a force of nature,” she said, smiling. “Tiny, but terrifying. If you messed up the adobo, she’d make you chop the garlic for the next batch *by hand*.”
Elena laughed, the sound rich and warm. “I like her already.”
Theo’s knee pressed against Mira’s, his voice low. “You never told me that.”
Mira turned to him, her smile softening. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
His gaze dropped to her mouth, his voice rough. “I’m starting to realize that.”
Elena cleared her throat, and Mira jumped, her cheeks flaring. Theo didn’t look away from her, his thumb tracing slow circles over her knuckles.
Elena’s voice was dry. “You two are *insufferable*.”
Mira laughed, the sound bright and genuine. “Sorry.”
Elena waved a hand. “Don’t be. It’s nice to see Theo *happy*.”
Theo’s fingers stilled on Mira’s, his gaze flicking to his mother. “Mama.”
Elena’s expression softened, just for a moment. “It’s true, *anak*.” She turned to Mira, her voice gentler. “He works too hard. Always has.”
Mira’s chest tightened. She thought of the late nights, the early mornings, the way Theo’s phone never stopped buzzing. “I’ve noticed.”
Elena’s gaze was knowing. “Make him take a break sometimes.”
Mira smiled. “I’ll do my best.”
Theo’s fingers tightened around hers, his voice low. “You don’t have to.”
Mira turned to him, her heart pounding. His gaze was dark, intense, his lips parted just slightly. For a moment, she thought he might kiss her right there, in front of his mother, consequences be damned.
Elena cleared her throat again, sharper this time. “Theo. The lechon.”
Theo exhaled sharply, his grip on Mira’s hand loosening. He turned back to the table, carving into the roast pig with more force than necessary.
Mira’s pulse thrummed in her throat, her skin still tingling where he’d touched her.
*Soon,* she promised herself. *Soon.*
---
The drive home was charged with a tension so thick Mira could taste it, sweet and electric on her tongue. Theo’s hands were tight on the wheel, his jaw clenched, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. Mira sat stiffly in the passenger seat, her fingers curled into the fabric of her dress, her body aching with the need to touch him.
They’d barely spoken since leaving his mother’s house, the silence between them heavy with everything they weren’t saying. Mira could still feel the ghost of his fingers on hers, the way his knee had pressed against hers under the table, the way his gaze had burned into her when she’d laughed at one of Elena’s stories.
She wanted him.
Badly.
Theo’s voice cut through the silence, rough and low. “You did well tonight.”
Mira turned her head, studying his profile. “Did I?”
His fingers flexed on the wheel. “She liked you.”
Mira’s chest warmed. “I liked her too.”
Theo’s gaze flicked to her, dark and intense. “She doesn’t like many people.”
Mira’s breath caught. “I’m honored.”
Theo’s lips curved, just slightly. “You should be.”
The car slowed as they pulled onto Mira’s street, the headlights cutting through the darkness. Theo parked in front of her building, the engine idling, the silence between them stretching taut.
Mira’s fingers trembled as she reached for the door handle. “I should—”
Theo’s hand shot out, his fingers closing around her wrist. “Wait.”
Mira turned to him, her heart hammering. His gaze was dark, his lips parted, his breath coming fast. She could see the pulse pounding in his throat, could feel the heat radiating off him in waves.
“Mira,” he murmured, his voice rough.
She swallowed hard. “Yes?”
His fingers tightened around her wrist, his thumb tracing slow circles over her pulse point. “I want to kiss you.”
Mira’s breath hitched. “Then do it.”
Theo’s gaze dropped to her mouth, his lips parting. He leaned in, his breath warm against her skin, his fingers sliding up her arm to cup the back of her neck. Mira’s eyes fluttered shut, her lips parting in anticipation—
Theo’s phone buzzed, sharp and insistent, between them.
Mira jolted, her eyes flying open. Theo exhaled sharply, his forehead dropping to hers, his breath ragged.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
Mira’s heart pounded, her body aching with frustration. “Ignore it.”
Theo’s laugh was rough, pained. “I can’t.” He pulled back, his gaze dark with regret. “It’s work.”
Mira’s fingers curled into fists, her nails digging into her palms. “Of course it is.”
Theo’s thumb brushed over her cheekbone, his touch achingly gentle. “I’ll make it up to you.”
Mira’s breath hitched. “You’d better.”
Theo’s lips curved, just slightly. “Count on it.”
He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her forehead—soft, chaste, *not enough*—before pulling away. Mira’s skin tingled where his lips had touched her, her body screaming in protest.
Theo’s gaze was dark, his voice rough. “Go inside, Mira.”
Mira’s fingers trembled as she reached for the door handle. “Goodnight, Theo.”
His jaw clenched. “Goodnight.”
She stepped out of the car, her legs unsteady, her body thrumming with need. She could feel his gaze on her as she walked to her building, could feel the weight of his promise hanging in the air between them.
*Soon,* she told herself. *Soon.*
And God help her, she couldn’t wait.