Enchanted (Billionaire Boys Club #2) | ongoing

Chapter 35

Darius:

Heaven.

That's what kissing her felt like.

Fucking heaven.

I'm certain it's the closest I'll ever get to feeling that place but it surrounds her like an aura.

She's pure light.

My lips are still fucking tingling, right now. As I sit at the breakfast table in my school uniform the next morning. Sleeves of my white shirt rolled to my elbows and tie loose around my neck.

She's ruined me.

Utterly and completely.

And I don't even mind.

"You did it."

I raise my head at the sound of my mother's voice.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't give me that. You're smiling. You never smile in the morning. You never smile without someone forcing it out of you." She hurries forward, taking my hands. "Tell me. Tell me, tell me, tell me."

"Ma, I'm trying to eat." I attempt to break free of her grasp but her grip is like iron.

"You can eat later."

"Mom."

"Honey." She wraps her arms around my neck, squeezing tight.

I tap her back. "Okay, Jesus Christ. Just let me breathe."

She lets go, keeping her hands on my shoulders but taking a step back. A huge grin gracing her face.

And within seconds, I give one, too.

"I did it."

"You did it." She squeals.

"What did he do?"

Dad appears out of thin air and mom spins to him, laying her hands on his chest and gazing up at him.

"Our son has a girlfriend!"

"Another one?" My father quirks a brow.

"Miles." My mother slaps his stomach.

"What? You just said-"

"A real one." She emphasises.

"You- no." He flicks his eyes to me. "Seriously?"

I lean back in my seat and clear my throat. "Well-"

"See?" She points to me. "Look, honey, he's blushing. He's blushing!"

"I am not." I turn my head to the side and look away.

Mom prances back into my vision. "I'm so happy!" She's practically jumping up and down. "Can I meet her? When can I meet her? Does she want to come over for dinner? Shall we all dine out? What-?"

"Okay." My dad gently takes hold of her waist and brings her towards him. "Let's take a breath, Hm?"

My mother's joy is almost coming off of her in waves.

"Mom, calm down." I roll my eyes.

"Calm down? Calm down?" She questions incredulously.

"Yes. конечно, ты собираешься с ней встретиться." (Of course you're going to meet her) I reassure her. Talking to her in Russian, her native language and my joint first, always makes her relax.

She breathes, in and out. "Really?"

"You're my mom." I stand.

And you'd murder me, otherwise.