Page 13 of Dark Shaman: Eternal Hope (The Children Of The Gods #100)

RUVON

R uvon pushed open the door to Ingrid's design center, holding a box of pastries. The sweet scent of baklava and rosewater cookies wafted up through the cardboard, mixing with the showroom's usual perfume of fresh fabric and furniture polish.

Arriving with offerings improved his chances of getting useful advice, and today he needed all the help he could get.

Besides, his daily purchases at The Pearl were his way of getting to know Arezoo's mother and aunts better.

At first, they'd welcomed him with forced smiles, but nowadays those smiles were genuine.

He was a good customer, and he was always courteous.

Maybe that's why he had been invited to a Friday dinner with the family.

It was a great opportunity to ask Soraya for her blessing, but he had no idea how to go about it, which was why he was bothering Ingrid again for advice.

She looked up from her design table, where she'd been arranging what looked like a hundred different shades of blue fabric, and gave him a welcoming smile, but he wasn't sure if that smile was for him or for the pastries.

"Are those for me?"

"Who else?" He put them on the edge of the table, away from the swatches of fabric.

"You are going to make me fat."

He chuckled. "If Atzil didn't manage that, I doubt I will."

Her partner was a chef, and Ingrid had told Ruvon that Atzil had won her heart with baked goods.

Ingrid rose to her feet and smoothed her hand over her dress. As always, she was elegance personified, the cream-colored dress fitting her generous curves perfectly. It was paired with heels of the same color that looked dangerous to walk in.

"These pastries should be consumed with tea." She walked to the kitchen, which was part of the original house before it was converted to her design center. "I assume you came with a bribe because you need my advice?"

"I won't deny it. You are the best advice giver when it comes to matters of the heart."

Ruvon knew that Ingrid would love the compliment.

"I don't know about that." She filled a kettle with water from the filter and put it on the stove.

As he waited for her to prepare the tea, he looked around the studio. Bolts of fabric leaned against walls, wood samples hung from hooks, and catalogs as thick as phone books filled several low bookcases.

"So, what is it about?" She started clearing a space at her consultation table by sweeping aside paint chips and fabric samples.

"Arezoo," he said. "It's always about her."

"Naturally." She ducked into the kitchen and a few minutes later returned to the showroom with two big cups of tea. "Tell Aunt Ingrid all about it." She put the mugs on the table.

Ingrid had become an unexpected confidant. She was easy to talk to and knew a lot about what women wanted.

"I'm having dinner at Arezoo's Friday evening, and I intend to ask her mother for her blessing."

"And you're terrified." Ingrid selected a piece of baklava with the concentration of someone defusing a bomb, holding it with the tips of her long fingernails before taking a tiny bite.

"Soraya is intimidating." He winced. "She always gives me a haughty look that implies she knows I'm up to no good, but she tolerates me because Arezoo likes me."

Ingrid laughed. "And I thought she only gave me that look. She's judgmental. That's for sure."

"Why would she give you the look?" He lifted the teacup. "It's not like you are dating one of her daughters."

"I don't know. Maybe she doesn't approve of how I dress, or my makeup, or whatever doesn't sit well with her. Some people find fault with everyone."

He shook his head. "I don't think she's that bad. Maybe she's just looking at you and wondering how you pull off such a polished look. Not many women have your talent."

"Oh, Ruvon." She leaned over and patted his arm. "That was such a sweet thing to say. Especially since I know it was what you actually thought and not something you came up with to flatter me."

"It's true. You are always so elegant."

"Well, thank you." She patted her light blonde hair that was arranged in some kind of updo. "But the same is probably true for you. She's not looking at you and finding you lacking in any way. She is just trying to determine if you are the right man for her daughter."

"That's the problem." He took a rose cookie from the box. "What if she thinks that I'm not the right man for Arezoo?"

"You need to stop doubting yourself. Project confidence even if you have to fake it."

"Easier said than done."

"You can do it." She took a delicate bite, somehow managing not to scatter crumbs despite the baklava's flaky layers. "Soraya isn't your enemy. She's a mother who wants her daughter to be happy. Your job is to convince her that you're the man who can do that."

"How?" He gestured at himself. "I'm not smooth or charming. I don't know how to say the right things."

Ingrid chuckled. "Could have fooled me. A few moments ago, you gave me one of the nicest compliments anyone has ever given me."

"That's because I wasn't trying to compliment you. I just said what I believed."

"And that's precisely what you need to do with Soraya.

But since I don't know her very well, I might be wrong.

" Ingrid took a sip of tea. "You should talk to Kyra, Soraya's sister.

She knows the family dynamics." Ingrid pulled out her phone and scrolled through her contacts.

"I can give you her number or call her for you.

" Her finger hovered over the call button.

"Wait. I'm not prepared?—"

She sighed. "Yes, you are. You came to me for advice with a box of pastries as a bribe. You can do the same with Kyra. I'll text her and ask if she has time to meet with you. I bet she'll know what this is about."

Ingrid was probably right.

"Okay."

She smiled. "That's my brave guy." Her fingers flew over the screen as she typed the message.

The reply came only seconds later.

"Kyra is heading to the café. She says you can meet her there."

Arezoo was working in the grocery store today, but he would have still preferred a more private setting for his talk with Kyra.

Ingrid closed the box of pastries, stood, and offered it to him. "Take the pastries to Kyra."

He shook his head. "These are from The Pearl. Kyra can get as many as she wants from her sisters. I brought them for you."

His resolute tone must have convinced her that he wasn't going to budge, and she took the box back. "Fine. Have it your way." She smiled. "Good luck, Ruvon. Tell me how it went."

"I will."

As he walked toward the café, Ruvon wondered how Ingrid always managed to steamroll him into action.

The female was a force of nature, and Atzil was lucky to have her even if they weren't fated truelove mates. They had love, the regular kind that wasn't mystical, and it worked just fine for them.

Were he and Arezoo fated for each other?

It certainly felt that way, but since it was the first time either of them had been in love, neither knew the difference between regular love and the fated kind.

Finding Kyra sitting at the back of the café enclosure, he was grateful for her choosing a spot that would afford them some privacy.

"Ruvon," she greeted him, gesturing to the empty chair. "I ordered coffee for you. I hope it's okay."

"Thank you for the coffee and for agreeing to see me so quickly." He sat down and reached for the paper cup so he would have something to do with his hands.

"Of course. You are practically part of the family."

That surprised him. "Am I? I don't think your sister thinks that I am."

Kyra smiled. "I assume that you mean Soraya. She can look intimidating, a mama bear, but she's not as terrifying as she seems. Well, she is, but it comes from a place of love."

"I know she loves her daughters. That's what makes this so intimidating. She sees me as a threat."

Kyra didn't bother to refute his statement. "Arezoo is young and inexperienced, and Soraya worries that she chose you because you chose her. She needs proof that you are worthy of her daughter."

"But how do I prove that? I can't even give her grand gestures or flowery speeches. I have plenty of money, but I don't think that she is concerned about that."

Kyra lifted her hand to stop him. "What Soraya wants to hear is not platitudes or the size of your bank and investment accounts. She wants to know that you'll love her daughter more than anyone else ever could. That you'd give her the moon if she asked for it."

At her words, Ruvon's anxiety spiked. "But I can't actually give Arezoo the moon. That's impossible. And I don't know how to talk like that."

Kyra laughed. "It's not meant literally, Ruvon. It's a figure of speech that means to convey the depth of your feelings. When someone says they'd give you the moon, they mean they'd do anything within their power to make you happy."

"Oh." He was relieved. "Still, I'm not good with metaphors or those kinds of declarations."

"You don't need to be a poet. You just need to be honest." She leaned forward, looking into his eyes. "Tell me something. Why do you love Arezoo?"

The question caught him off guard. "I... she's beautiful, obviously. And smart. And?—"

"No." Kyra shook her head. "Those are facts, not feelings. Why do you love her?"

Ruvon was quiet for a moment, thinking. "She makes me feel like more," he said finally.

"When I'm with her, I feel stronger, smarter, like I could face anything.

She sees something in me that I don't always see in myself.

And she..." He paused, searching for words.

"She makes ordinary moments feel important.

Just sitting with her, talking about nothing important, are the moments I treasure most. I want thousands of these moments, millions, I don't want to be away from her. "

"Better," Kyra said with approval. "That's what Soraya needs to hear. Not rehearsed speeches, but truth."

"It still feels inadequate."

"Honesty, even raw and unpolished, is better than the best rehearsed speech.

" She took a sip of her coffee and leaned back.

"I don't remember our childhood because those memories were stolen from me by an evil male.

But I know Soraya now, and I know that she trusts Arezoo's judgment more than she lets on. "

"Really?"

"Really. But she needs to test you, to push and see if you'll stand firm. It's not cruelty, and it's not because she thinks you are unworthy or untrustworthy. It's caution."

"I would never hurt Arezoo," Ruvon said immediately.

"I know that. Arezoo knows that. But Soraya needs to know it too, and words alone won't convince her. She'll be watching everything—how you look at her daughter, how you interact with the family, whether you show respect without being obsequious."

"No pressure," he muttered. "Any practical advice? Should I bring flowers?"

"Definitely bring flowers for Soraya. Not red roses, though, those are too forward. Not white, that's for mourning. And definitely not yellow."

"What's wrong with yellow?"

"Betrayal, supposedly. Don't ask me why but avoid them. Pink roses are safe, or a mixed bouquet. Something that shows thought without being overwhelming."

Ruvon pulled out his phone to make notes, then stopped. "This feels ridiculous. I'm a grown man, and I'm terrified of a dinner conversation."

"You're not terrified of the dinner," Kyra said. "You're terrified of not being enough, of being rejected. That's universal. Every person who's ever loved someone has feared not being worthy of that love."