She also seemed to speak the way I imagined royalty would. I could hear her from across the venue as they headed in our direction.

" —had the nerve to say my early phrases were underpowered. Underpowered. Me. Can you believe the nerve…?”

Sacha answered with something I couldn’t hear clearly, but he did reach over and put his hand on her shoulder as the beginning of a smile curved over his mouth.

The “ugh” that came from my side had me turning my head to glance at Julian who was busy setting up his kick drum while I did his cymbals for the first time. As a late birthday present, I’d offered to help him set up from time to time. His attention was on the same people, except his nose was scrunched. When he realized I’d caught his expression he poked at the inside of his cheek with his tongue, his face unapologetic. “His mom is…” he trailed off with a whisper, “a snob.”

“Really?” I whispered back.

“Yeah.” He glanced back over at his band mate and visitor. “You’ll see.””

“You’re scaring me.”

“She’s a famous opera singer,” he quickly explained. “In her mind, Sach is throwing away this amazing talent she gave him and it’s all our fault, and she lets us know that each time she shows up.”

I grimaced and Julian nodded.

He paused before adding quickly, “Don’t call her Mrs. Malykhin.”

Before I could thank him for the warning, the husky female voice called out. “Hello, Julian.”

The TCC member plastered a smile on his face as he walked around the part of the drum set he’d been working on. “Hi, Miss Viktoriya.” He gave me a meaningful side-glance that I took to be a sign. “It’s been a long time.”

Taller close-up than she looked from across the venue, she had to be at least five-ten and definitely didn’t look old enough to have her youngest child be almost thirty, much less have five kids. The elegant woman held out a slim hand in Julian’s direction. He took it and kissed it.

Literally. He kissed her hand. I’d never seen that happen in person, and I suddenly wondered why.

My eyes shot over to Sacha who was standing a few feet behind his mother. He smiled at me, opening his mouth at the same time. “Mom, I want you to meet someone,” he said as he closed the distance between him and me.

Miss Viktoriya turned her entire body to face me. The similarities between mother and son were striking. They had the same cheekbones, the same transparent gray to their irises, and the same kind of extraordinary beauty. All that attention and confidence was now on me, and I lost the fight to not fidget.

But wonderful Sacha must have sensed or seen my anxiety because he cut in. “Mom, this is Gaby. Gaby, this is my mom.”

Damn it. He’d called her by what he knew her as but that didn’t give me a clue whether to call her Miss Viktoriya too or not.

I smiled tightly at the woman and held out my hand in her direction, making it clear—at least I hoped—that I wasn’t going to be kissing her hand like Julian had done, no matter how famous she was. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you.”

Even as she took my palm in hers in a handshake that was absolutely not limp-fish in any way, shape or form, she eyed me up and down discreetly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well. I’ve heard so much about you.”

So much about me? What the hell was up with that?

I knew I wasn't exactly at my best, but I'd opted to wear jeans instead of sweats and a formfitting kids’ sweater I'd picked up in Brisbane that had a koala on it with Australia written in rainbow letters. Eli had been nice enough to braid my hair after I'd promised to give him Tylenol in return for his headache, like I wouldn't have given it to him regardless.