Chapter 19 – Celine
After the incident in my room, the one where I yelled at the man who had the power to end my life, I’d been avoiding myself like a plague. It was mutual because I didn’t want to see him either. Hilda said that I could’ve handled the situation better.
Maybe she was right. But in my defense, I was so pissed off by his statement about owning me like a piece of property that I lost it. I never intended to snap the way I did. In fact, I was even scared at first—until he made that condescending remark.
For some reason, I hated the fact that he said he would keep me locked up because I was carrying his child. I felt insulted, like my own opinions didn’t matter. Like I was just another car in his garage.
Despite everything that had happened—everything he put me through—I still wanted to keep the baby. The least he could’ve done was treat me like a human being. He didn’t have to exercise authority over me. He was just a man. Not a god.
Hilda also mentioned that she’d never seen him so affected by something outside his work before. As someone who had been working for his family for decades, that day was the first time she saw a domestic issue stress him out so much.
She admitted that she was shaken to her core when she saw how confused he was. Artur Tarasov, the ruthless man who had never lost a battle, had run away from a fight. She said he told her to handle the situation, that he couldn’t deal with me in that state.
Truth be told, I didn’t expect to flare up the way that I did. And even after he walked away, I kept yelling behind him, testing his patience. If I were being honest with myself, I’d admit I went too far.
Deep down, though, I loved the way he quietly left the scene before things spiraled out of control. It was something every real man would do in that situation. Perhaps he understood that my outburst was a result of my current predicament.
I was in a fragile state, both emotionally and mentally. I just needed some space to think and breathe. I wanted to be pampered and taken out of these walls for once. It would be nice to see the outside world for at least an hour after being locked up in here for months.
Anyway, it’s been three days already since the incident, and I hadn’t left my room. He hadn’t come visiting either. Maybe I scared him away. By now, my anger was gone—replaced by silence and a heavy emptiness nothing could fill.
I was bored, and the one person who’d been keeping me company these days hadn’t shown up today.
Hilda.
She wasn’t the one who served my breakfast this morning. It was one of the maids. When I asked about Hilda, she said the boss had sent her on a personal errand.
I didn’t push further, even though I thought Artur did that on purpose. Because why her? Of everyone in the house, why did he choose her? This man knew for a fact that she spent most of her time in my room. Yet he decided to make that move.
At this point, it was obvious that he did that to get on my nerves.
Why?
Because he could.
He always liked to exercise his authority and prove that he was in control.
Egocentric son of a gun!
I was seething in bed when I heard a knock on the door. It was Hilda’s way of knocking, soft and gentle. I jolted upright, a sudden smile creeping into my face.
“Come on in, it’s open!”
The door swung open, and she waltzed in. She was holding a new dress on a hanger, wrapped in a transparent garment cover. Her neck was bent sideways, pressed against the phone between her ear and left shoulder.
She was speaking in Russian to the person on the other line, her tone laced with urgency. I watched her stroll into the room and then halt before my bed. Once done with the call, she lowered the phone and rubbed her eyes, mumbling something under her breath.
Hilda was pissed. Someone had gotten under her skin. Weird, but I found the frown on her face rather hilarious.
“Everything okay?” I chuckled, my eyes never leaving her.
“Yes, dear.” She massaged her temple. “It’s this hairstylist who’s giving me a headache. She decided to bail on me at the last minute. Can you imagine that?” She lowered the garment bag, draping it neatly over my mattress.
“Hairstylist?” I asked, brows raised in confusion.
“Yeah. The one who was supposed to style your hair and do your makeup.”
I pulled my head back, shock and suspicion flickering in my gaze. “Okay, you lost me there.”
“I’m sorry, my thoughts are a bit messy right now,” she answered, sinking into the bed beside me. “This is yours, by the way.” She pointed at the garment.
“Uh…still not following, Hilda.”
“The dress is yours because Artur wants you to wear it tonight,” she explained. “He said I should make sure you’re ready before 8:00 p.m.”
Maybe I was slow. Or maybe she wasn’t giving me enough information. Because I could barely understand what was happening right now.
“Ready for what?”
“He has a function to attend, and he wants you to be his plus one.”
I hesitated. Shocked. “What?”
“Yeah,” she said, oblivious to my bewilderment. “He wants you looking all glamorous and stunning. But guess what. That incompetent girl no longer wants to work with us.” She buried her face in her palms. “Now I have to hire another professional, and the clock is ticking.”
She was worried that the task assigned to her was going south. I, on the other hand, was in awe of the preparations going on behind my back. So that’s why she hadn’t come to see me sooner—this was the errand she was running for Artur.
“He’s taking me to a function as his plus one?” I asked her, my voice soft and gentle.
He could’ve asked me first. But it didn’t matter. What mattered was his motive and the fact that I was finally going to leave this estate for a few hours at least.
“You sound surprised,” she said, wearing a small smile.
I shrugged my shoulders. “Would you blame me?”
She let out a quiet chuckle. “Artur might be the devil himself. But trust me. He’s not as terrible as you think he is.”
My cheeks flushed. It was annoying. And embarrassing. “Are you advocating for him now?” I teased, mirroring her grin.
“Maybe.” She laughed. “He’s like a son to me, you know.”
Silence.
Taking me with him to this function was a thoughtful move. And I was grateful, even though I might never tell him that.
“Don’t worry about a professional doing my makeup and styling my hair,” I said to her. “I’ll handle it myself.”
“What, no!”
“Hilda.” I reached out and held her hand. “I need you to trust me. Okay?”
She hesitated, unsure of what to do or say.
“I’ve got this.”
“But Artur….”
“…will understand that it wasn’t your fault the professional bailed on you,” I finished her statement. “There’s no time to find another one. So let’s improvise.”
She let out a soft sigh. “Fine.”
“Fantastic.”
***
With Hilda’s help and the assistance of a couple of other maids, I was ready before 8:00 p.m. that night. As instructed. They doubted my ability to do my makeup and style my hair. But at the end of the day, they were blown away.
I was told he was waiting for me downstairs, and with a racing heart, I headed out to present myself.
The dress he got me was a long crimson gown with the hem brushing against the floor. It was sleeveless and featured a daring slit that ran along to my thighs.
Around my neck was jewelry made out of pure gold, and it matched the bracelets on my wrists. Still courtesy of Artur Tarasov.
The rich scent of my perfume filled the hallway as I walked, my high heels softly clicking on the marble floor.
From the head of the stairs, I spotted him in the living room, pacing back and forth. He was dressed in a black tux, his hair styled to perfection. The diamond watch around his wrist glinted in the light, as did his shined shoes.
When he looked up and saw me, he froze for a moment, his eyes locked to mine. I descended the stairs like a beauty queen, my manicured fingers trailing the polished railing.
I held his gaze, refusing to look away.
The man looked so attractive tonight. Hot. Sexy. Edible. And for a second, I forgot that we weren’t on speaking terms. Yet. I was no longer mad at him, but he didn’t know that because we hadn’t spoken since the incident.
He stared at me in silence when I halted in front of him. I could swear he felt the urge to throw a compliment at me. But his pride wouldn’t let him.
“Let’s go,” he said, voice as flat as the expression on his face. “I don’t want us to be late.”
You look amazing, too, douchebag.
I followed him in silence as he led me out of the building. A whole convoy was waiting for us outside, armed men escorting us to our vehicle. Five cars were in front, and another five were behind.
With everything going on in his life at the moment, he couldn’t be too prepared. I understood that, especially after the attack weeks ago. We got into the vehicle, and the convoy rolled out of the estate in a single file.
Konstantin was at the wheel while Artur and I occupied the backseat. The car’s cabin was silent throughout the drive except for the low hum of the engine. He didn’t tell me where we were going, and I didn’t ask.
I noticed we took a different turn, away from the main road that was supposedly leading out of the forest. That’s when I understood that the reason I got lost the last time I tried to escape was because I didn’t know about this secret route.
We traveled for another ten minutes before bursting out into the city. This shortcut was shorter than a shortcut, I had to admit.
The night was pulsing as the convoy sped through intersections. The streets were washed in amber lights, the air beyond the window warm and restless. The atmosphere was filled with the scent of roasted corn, exhaust fumes, and blaring horns.
I’d missed this: the noise, the hustle and bustle of city life. But not enough to live amongst the chaos. Because, surprisingly, I’d gotten used to the peace and serenity the forest provided.
Everything out here was just…loud. Messy.