Chapter 19 – Celine #2
Neon lights flickered in muted reds and blues, humming above shops as street lamps cast long shadows across the pavements.
The world outside the window was alive and pulsing, a stark contrast to the forest’s peace and quiet. However, it was good to be out here again after all this time.
Soon, we arrived at our destination, the convoy rolling beneath a sweeping iron portico with gates already open.
The exterior of the looming structure was magnificent. A set of towering columns framed grand arched pathways, the moonlight glinted off large windows, while perfectly sculpted stone figures lined the corniced roofline.
At the entrance were wide, long steps adorned with a red carpet leading up to the open doors. The place was swarming with armed guards, their trained leashed dogs barking and sniffing around.
A few guests lingered here and there in groups of not more than three people. Some were by the beautiful fountain—that dominated the center of the compound—chatting and smiling, while others clung to dimly lit corners.
After Konstantin brought our vehicle to a stop, Artur turned toward me and said, “We’re here. Behave.”
I drew my brows together, displeased by the unnecessary warning. “When have I never?”
His lips curled into a faint smirk, and he ignored the hostility in my tone.
I wasn’t dumb, so I didn’t appreciate being spoken to like I was. One of the things I hated most in the world—aside from him—was embarrassment.
I hated it so much that I was always ready to do or not to do anything that would put me in a situation where I’d embarrass myself.
If public humiliation was what he was afraid of, then he had nothing to worry about. He wouldn’t even know I was by his side. That’s how quiet I planned to be.
The door was open from the outside, and I climbed down from the vehicle. My eyes squinted at the cool breeze brushing against my skin. I seemed composed on the outside. But on the inside, it was chaotic.
I was nervous and afraid, and now I was doubting whether coming here was a good idea in the first place. I hadn’t even walked in through those doors yet, and I was already feeling anxious.
My palms were sweaty, my pulse was racing, and my heart was pounding in my chest. However, the second Artur walked over to me and took my hand, I felt a wind of relief blow across my face.
He locked my elbow in his, flashing me a subtle yet encouraging grin. “Shall we?”
I let out a quiet exhale, and together, we headed toward the entrance, shoes clicking against the pavement. Other guests were asked to wait while their names were being searched for on the list.
However, the second the black-suited men at the entrance spotted us, they ushered us in. No questions asked.
“Welcome, Mr. Tarasov,” one of them said, head slightly lowered in reverence. “Enjoy your evening.”
Hand-in-hand, we entered those doors into a whole different world, one filled with the crème de la crème of society. Politicians, movie stars, and humanitarians all gathered together, mingling and smiling among themselves.
The grand hall was massive with crystal chandeliers hanging in tiers from the vaulted ceiling. The floor was polished to a shine, its surface so smooth that it caught the guests’ reflections.
Marble columns rose to meet the ceiling, adorned with the faded paintings of wars, saints, and victories long past. The low hum of conversations filled the air, mixed with the scent of expensive perfumes and fine wine.
The guests were dressed to impress, with men in tailored suits and women in elegant gowns. Diamonds and gold jewelry around necks and wrists sparkled in the lights, filling the space with a sense of wealth—and power.
I was standing in the midst of some of the city’s most important and recognized individuals.
Me.
Celine Hart.
If anyone had told me a few months ago that I would be at a gathering like this, I probably would’ve laughed it off.
Yet here I was, surrounded by the people I only heard about and saw on TV. No wonder he’d asked me to behave.
I clung to him like a lifeline as we moved through the crowd in silence. At first, I thought I was being delusional when heads began turning toward us. But then I noticed it was indeed happening, and I wasn’t seeing things.
“Is it just me, or are people looking at us?” I leaned, lowering my voice to a low whisper.
“They are,” he replied with the same tone, his head held up high.
“Why? I don’t like being in the spotlight.”
“Tough luck,” he answered. “Get used to it.”
I straightened my spine, fixed the expression on my face, and continued walking by his side. Some stared in admiration, others in a mix of shock and surprise. Why, though? Had they never seen Artur with a woman before?
Then there were those who stared with jealousy in their eyes. They were women, of course, maybe those he’d used and dumped. Or those who’d tried to get his attention and failed. Either way, they envied me.
Those girls had no idea how quickly I’d trade places with them if I ever got the chance. What they saw, what they were jealous about, was what Artur and I showed them. A strong couple worth looking up to.
They had no idea how false this image was—it was just a fuckin’ mirage. But they didn’t know that. No one did. So it was easy to conclude that we were happy.
Happy.
How laughable.
“Artur….”
A masculine voice snapped me out of my thoughts, drawing my attention toward the speaker.
It was a Russian man, no taller than I was. Brown hair, a neatly trimmed beard, and a white tux that looked good on him.
He approached us with open arms and an authentic smile. “My brother from another mother!” He laughed, his voice thick with the accent.
“Anatoli,” Artur replied, embracing him for a fleeting moment.
The small man pulled his head back a bit. “This is what I hate about being around you. You make me look shorter than I am.”
I couldn’t help the light chuckle that burst from my mouth.
“See what I’m talking about?” He casually gestured toward me. “Now she’s laughing at me.”
I shook my head. “No, no, I’m not.”
He chuckled. “No need to get all defensive. I’m just joking.” He adjusted his bowtie, then paused as if he noticed something. “Wait a minute. You’re holding hands.” His eyebrows raised. “That’s a sight I never thought I’d see in my lifetime.”
“Don’t be dramatic,” Artur said calmly.
Anatoli ignored him and faced him. “I have never seen this bastard in gatherings like this with a woman before. Never. Not even once. And I’ve known him for like, what, 20 years?” He shifted his gaze back to his friend. “Yet here he is, holding hands with a beautiful lady.”
My lips curled into a radiant smile at his remark. At least someone noticed and threw me a compliment.
“You must be very important to him,” Anatoli said to me, beaming.
I tightened my grip around his elbow and forced out a plastic grin. “Yeah, I am. Aren’t I?” My head tilted upward to meet his gaze.
“The name is Anatoli Petrov,” he introduced himself to me.
“Celine,” I answered with a soft and kind expression. “Celine Hart.”
“Pleasure meeting you, Celine Hart.” He faced Artur again, and the two spoke in Russian for a while.
When they were done, Anatoli walked away, mingling with other guests and making silly jokes. I thought all Mafia men were broody and allergic to happiness, like this ruthless man beside me. But Anatoli was different.
“He seems nice,” I said to Artur, indirectly trying to get under his skin.
“Don’t get fooled,” he answered. “This is the version of him he wants you to see.” He glanced at me. “No one in this hall is nice. No one.” Artur grabbed a glass of champagne from a nearby waiter’s tray. “Well, except for you.”
I hesitated, an abrupt grin creeping into my face, faint and almost imperceptible. “Is that a compliment?”
Silence.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
As the night unfolded, I began loosening up bit by bit. I met a few of his associates, most of whom were just like him: mean-looking and cold. Deathly cold.
I thought that I’d be intimidated by their rigidity. But I wasn’t. Because it turned out that living under the same roof as Artur had hardened me in ways I didn’t realize.
All night long, I stood by his side, listening to the conversations he had with people. Some were acquaintances—allies—others were foes. A good number of the folks he spoke with displayed one of these or both. Respect. Fear.
His discussions were centered around business, money, and strategic alliances. However, sometimes, he’d switch from English to Russian. Or better still, start talking in coded messages. Whenever he did that, I knew the conversation was about something illegal.
The night was wonderful, and I was, at some point, already getting used to the atmosphere. Then, he pulled a stunt that I never saw coming, something that nothing could’ve ever prepared me for.
He was given the stage to say a few words about tonight’s gathering. All eyes on him, he took the microphone from the MC and began talking. Calm. Gentle. Powerful.
I stood there in the crowd, watching him with a strange sense of pride washing over me. The hall fell silent as his voice commanded attention. I noticed a few women smiling sheepishly, batting their eyelashes, and even winking at him.
It shouldn’t bother me, but it did. It irritated me so much that I didn’t realize I was glaring at them.
Shameless women!
Then came the shock of my life.
“Before I get out of your faces…” he said, his little tease stirring a quiet chuckle from the crowd. “I’d like to formally introduce you all to someone important to me.”
Everything was happening so fast that I couldn’t keep up.
“Ladies and gentlemen, my fiancée….” He gestured toward me. “Celine Hart.”
What?
Huh?
The whole world froze for a second, my heart pounding loudly in my chest. The words hit like a dropped glass, and I was still trying to confirm that I heard him right.
I met his gaze across the hall, shocked and confused, unsure of how to react.
Fiancée?
Was he being serious?
What the hell, Artur?!
I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath this whole time until the crowd erupted into heavy applause.
All eyes were on me.
I was in the spotlight. Literally.
Fuck.
Shock flooded my face, hot and blinding as my fingers curled into fists. I locked my jaw, holding back the anger coursing through my body. All I wanted to do was walk away from these people, but I couldn’t embarrass him. Even though he started it.
Congratulations flooded in, toasts were raised, and crystals chimed. I managed to squeeze out the most authentic plastic smile I could muster. I nodded at the guests around me and embraced those who hugged me.
My hands were trembling, my lip quivering, and my mind was jiggling a million thoughts at once. I was mad, confused, shocked, and embarrassed. But at the same time, I was forced to act all happy and pleasantly surprised.
He made me the center of attention even after I told him I hated being in the spotlight. He put me in a position where I had no choice but to smile through my pain and entertain our “well-wishers.”
Artur climbed down the podium, walked straight to me, and wrapped his hands around my waist. His touch was as protective as it was suffocating. He drew me closer to himself, stared into my eyes, and sealed the announcement with a soft kiss.
I had no choice but to kiss him back, even though I was furious inside. Somehow, the event was now all about the two of us. The live band in a corner began performing classical music, its gentle melody drifting through the air.
The crowd cleared the floor, as if inviting us to dance. I looked into his eyes, discreetly shaking my head, but he wouldn’t have it. This man took my hand and pulled me onto the makeshift dance floor.
“I don’t know how to dance,” I murmured, anxious and angry at the same time.
“Just follow my lead.” His fingers intertwined with mine, and with his other hand, he started guiding my waist.
We moved slowly to the rhythm of the music, his steps practical and easy to imitate.
“You’re pissed,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
I locked my jaw, replying through gritted teeth. “Of course I’m pissed. What’s the meaning of what you just did?”
He faked a small smile. “I told everyone you belong to me. You should be grateful.”
My face twisted into a faint scowl. “Grateful? For what? Ruining my life?”
“No, for saving you from predators.” He raised my hand and spun me around for a second before his arm found my waist again.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I placed my manicured hand on his chest, eyes locked with his.
To everyone else, we were having a good time, dancing and enjoying each other’s company. They had no idea about the storm brewing beneath the surface. Because our voices were so low, nobody knew what we were talking about.
“I told you before,” he answered. “No one here is nice. Claiming you publicly is the only way to let them know you’re off limits.”
“That’s very poor damage control, if you ask me,” I said, swaying steadily in his arms. “Because none of this would’ve been necessary if you hadn’t exposed me to these not-so-nice people in the first place.”
He paused, his eyes squinting by a fraction. “I thought you wanted to leave the mansion.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t ask you to bring me to a hall filled with wolves in sheep’s clothing.” My eyes scanned the crowd, noticing the fake smiles on people’s faces.
“Don’t worry about the wolves,” he replied. “They won’t harm you. Not on my watch.”
“I’m not worried about me, Artur. I’m worried about our unborn child. I don’t want him or her growing up in your world. It’s too risky.”
“Well, too bad,” he said. “The child carries my blood, and they’ll grow up under my roof where I can protect them and keep an eye on them.”
“That’s not your decision to make—”
“It is,” he cut me off. “And I’ve made it already.”
I glared at him, feeling my blood boiling with rage. “Since you’re the one in charge of making decisions around here, what’s gonna happen to me?”
He paused, his grip tight around my waist. “You’ll marry me and help raise our kid.”
The music stopped.
The crowd applauded.
I watched him sketch a bow with an evil smirk on his lips.
He left me with no choice but to do as he wanted. His plan was to marry me—against my will—and turn me into a full-time housewife. Basically, I’d still be his prisoner in private but his wife in public.
How the hell did I end up here?
Why did I ever touch that damn book in the first place? I should’ve ignored that mystery man in the library months ago. I should’ve just minded my own fuckin’ business and gone ahead with my life.
None of this would’ve happened to me if I’d never touched that ledger. Now I was paying the price. Dearly. My whole life was ruined because of one mistake, one lousy act of curiosity.
I was going to live the rest of my miserable life regretting ever crossing paths with this psycho.