Lev's POV
"Of course, Mother! Absolutely. I ain't that busy, Just stay put," said quickly, his voice firm. "Don't move. I'm coming. I'll send someone-no, I'll come myself. Just tell me your terminal."
I listened for a brief moment, absorbing the information. "Gate 12. Information booth. Got it. Don't worry, I'm on my way." I ended the call, the connection severing with a decisive click.
"Sergei!" I barked, already halfway to the door.
My assistant, ever-present and unflappable, appeared instantly, materializing as if I'd anticipated the summons. "Yes, Mr. Petrov?"
"Cancel everything," I said, my voice brooking no argument. "The rest of the day, tomorrow morning - clear my schedule completely."
Sergei's fingers were already flying across his tablet, his expression calm and efficient. "Understood, Mr. Petrov. May I inquire as to the reason for this urgent change?"
"My mother and Ania are at JFK," I explained, my tone clipped. "My father was supposed to meet them, but something came up. I need to go there. Personally."
Sergei paused his typing, his gaze meeting my with a hint of concern. "JFK, sir? Is everything alright?"
"They're fine, just...stranded without a ride. I need to get to them as quickly as possible." I ran a hand through my hair, a rare display of agitation. "Arrange for Maxim to have the car ready downstairs immediately. And Sergei," I added, my voice regaining some of its usual authority, "inform security of my departure. Tell them it's urgent."
"Of course, Mr. Petrov. Maxim will be waiting. I will also notify security and reschedule all your appointments. Do you require me to book a flight back for you?" Sergei's mind was already several steps ahead, anticipating my needs.
"No flight. I'll drive. Let me know if anything absolutely critical comes up, but otherwise, hold the fort. I'll be in touch." I was already moving towards the door.
"Understood, Mr. Petrov. Travel safely." Sergei's response was professional and concise, a testament to their long and efficient working relationship.
I nodded curtly and strode out of my office, the image of my mother and sister waiting in the bustling airport fueling his haste. The intricate algorithms on my screen were forgotten, replaced by the simple, primal need to reach my family.
I bypassed Sergei's desk, and headed straight for the executive elevator.
I jabbed the button for the ground floor impatiently, the smooth, silent descent feeling agonizingly slow.
As the doors hissed open, Maxim, my regular company driver, a man whose stoic demeanor never wavered, stood waiting by the gleaming black Mercedes sedan. Maxim held the rear door open.
"JFK, Maxim. As quickly as possible,"
I said, my voice tight with a blend of authority and underlying concern.
Maxim nodded curtly, his eyes already assessing the traffic flow outside the building's glass doors.
"Understood, Mr. Petrov."
Maxim nodded once, a silent acknowledgment. The powerful engine hummed to life, and the car eased into the flow of traffic, navigating the Midtown grid with practiced efficiency.
I pulled out my phone, my thumb hovering over my mother's contact.
I waited until they were on the highway, the cityscape receding in the rearview mirror, before pressing call.
"Mom, we're on the way. Should be there in about forty-five minutes, maybe a little longer depending on traffic," I said, my voice calmer now that I was in motion.
"Oh, darling, that's wonderful news," his mother replied, a palpable wave of relief in her tone. "We're still by the information booth at Gate 12. It's quite crowded here."
"Alright. Once I arrive, will you be able to see me easily? I'll be in a black Mercedes," I described, knowing the sea of cars at the airport could be overwhelming.
"Yes, yes, I'll keep an eye out. Just look for a rather impatient-looking young woman and her slightly flustered mother," she chuckled softly, a hint of her usual humor returning.
"Understood," I smiled faintly. "I'm getting closer now. Let me know if you spot the car. Otherwise, I'll call you again when I've parked. Stay put."
I ended the call, tucking the phone into my pocket. I watched the blur of the highway, the minutes ticking by with a mix of anticipation and lingering worry.
True to my estimate, after approximately forty-five minutes, the Mercedes pulled up to the curb outside the arrivals area of Terminal 4. The air was thick with the roar of jet engines and the hurried footsteps of travelers. I stepped out of the car, the familiar chaos of JFK washing over me.
I pulled out his phone again and dialed my mother's number. "Mom, I'm here. Just stepped out of the car. Can you see me?" I scanned the throng of people near the information booth, my eyes sharp and searching.
"Yes, Lev! I see a black car... and you! You're walking towards us," her voice exclaimed, a clear note of joy in it now.
My gaze locked onto them. My elegant mother, looking slightly disheveled but unmistakably regal, and beside her, Ania, my younger sister, arms crossed and a look of mild exasperation on her face. Relief flooded through me.
"Alright, I see you too," I said, a genuine smile finally breaking through his earlier tension. I ended the call, now focus now solely on his family. He moved quickly through the remaining crowd, the sounds of the airport fading as he closed the distance between them.
I reached my mother and Ania, enveloping them in a tight hug, a wave of relief washing over him. "Mom, Ania, are you both alright?" I asked, my gaze shifting between them, ensuring they were unharmed.
"We're fine, just a bit... inconvenienced," Ania said, her tone still carrying a hint of her earlier annoyance.
"Don't worry now, I'm here," I reassured them, turning to Victor, who had efficiently retrieved their luggage cart. "Maxim, if you could take these to the car, please."
Maxim nodded and began wheeling the luggage towards the black Mercedes parked a short distance away.
I placed a hand on my mother's arm and guided them in the same direction. As we walked, my gaze drifted across the bustling arrivals area, a kaleidoscope of faces and hurried movements.
Then I saw a woman standing slightly apart, still engrossed in her phone conversation. Though her brow was furrowed in what seemed like irritation, there was a striking beauty about her, an elegant weariness in her posture that caught his attention.
I watched her for a fleeting moment before my mother's voice drew me back.
"Lev, darling," she began, her tone carrying a note of concern, "did you call your father? What exactly was the reason he couldn't pick us up?"
I turned my attention back to my mother. "Yes, Mom, I spoke with him. There was an... urgent matter at the hotel, something about a potential acquisition. He sends his apologies." It wasn't the full truth, but it was enough for now.
I glanced back towards the woman I'd noticed as I answered my mother, the fleeting impression of her lingering in my mind. But she was gone. The spot where she had been talking on her phone was now occupied by a different group of arriving passengers, their faces unfamiliar.
A faint sense of... something - a fleeting curiosity - flickered within me before I dismissed it. My mother and sister were here, and that was all that mattered. I guided them towards the waiting car, the brief encounter already receding into the background noise of the busy airport.
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Author's POV for Evva
"Hurry, Liam."
As she spoke to Liam, describing her location near gate 12 and the information booth, her gaze swept across the arriving passengers once more. The small group she'd briefly noted - the elegant older woman, the younger one who reminded her of her sister, and the authoritative man who had joined them - was no longer in sight. They must have been met by whoever they were waiting for.
"Liam, I see you!" she exclaimed, a wave of relief washing over her as she spotted his familiar, slightly harried figure weaving through the crowd, a crumpled sign with her name held aloft.
He spotted her at the same moment, his face breaking into a relieved smile. "Evva! There you are! I am so incredibly sorry about the traffic. It was an absolute snarl on the Van Wyck." He rushed towards her, his apologies tumbling out in a rush.
"It's alright, Liam," Evva said, though a hint of her earlier irritation still lingered. "Just glad you're here."
"Let me take that," he said, reaching for her vintage leather suitcase. "Rough flight?"
"Long," she sighed, stretching her neck. "And leaving San Francisco was... difficult. Family farewells are never easy."
Liam nodded sympathetically. "I can imagine. Well, welcome back to the organized chaos. The studio is buzzing, by the way. We have that fitting with Mrs. Van Derlyn tomorrow, and the fabric samples for the new collection arrived this morning - they're stunning, you'll love them."
As Liam steered her through the throngs of people towards the baggage claim area, he continued to fill her in on the studio updates. Evva listened, the familiar rhythm of her work life slowly pulling her back into its orbit, the warmth of San Francisco beginning to recede.
Once they had her suitcase and a few other bags Liam had managed to locate, he led her out of the terminal, the biting New York wind hitting her again, though this time it felt a little less unwelcome now that Liam was there. He guided her towards the parking garage, the familiar sight of his slightly battered but reliable sedan a welcome beacon.
"Ready to dive back in?" Liam asked, opening the car door for her.
Evva took one last breath of the crisp, cold air, the grey cityscape stretching out before her. A sigh escaped her lips, this one carrying a note of resignation rather than longing. "As ready as I'll ever be, Liam. Let's go home."
As they drove away from JFK, the image of the elegant older woman and the younger girl she'd briefly seen flickered in the back of Evva's mind, a fleeting, insignificant encounter in the grand theater of the airport. She had no idea that their lives had just brushed against someone who had also briefly noticed her, a man whose world was as different from hers as the sun-drenched bougainvillea of San Francisco was from the stark skyscrapers of New York.
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