Page 5 of The Tsar's Obsession
A group of people came in, and I pocketed my phone after catching a glimpse of Viv’s last text.
Viv: I'm worried about your dry spell sweetie. You probably have cobwebs down there, shiiiiit.
Viv had to chill. Without a doubt, it had been an embarrassingly long time since I had sex, but I wasn’t in a dry spell; I was in a no-fuck zone. Forever voluntarily trapped there. Every man I met was immediately placed in the no-fuck zone because I didn’t want anyone unless Ireallywanted him. And he didn’t exist. Or, maybe existed in another parallel universe.
The apartment was teeming with people now, and I needed to work. One meaningless conversation after another, I fielded questions from an older gentleman, my smile robotic and professional.
But then I felt it, like someone was watching me, swallowing me whole. My eyes flitted across the apartment and stopped onhim.A man. A tall and beautiful man, standing exactly in the spot I had just occupied a few minutes ago. The broad-shouldered hulk faced the window, but through the reflection, I could tell his eyes were on me. His hands were behind his back, and his white button-down shirt was crisp and bright on that tall frame. When did he come in?
"And what about the closing date?" I heard the words, but my mind was with that impeccably dressed man by the window. Closing date? Oh, yes! The older guy I was speaking with.
"The sellers are looking to close as soon as possible." I flashed the interrogator in front of me a quick smile and promptly refocused on the man at the window, but he wasn’t facing away anymore, no. I caught his gaze, and it felt like a sound wave hit me.
I didn’t believe in instant attraction. That stuff was for fairy tales—lies told to us when we’re little children so we believe in miracles, to make life less hopeless. Maybe a miracle would happen to us? But in real life, broken hearts happened. Betrayals happened. Lies, mistakes, and misunderstandings happened. Temptations happened.
In fact, the temptation was standing across the room and eating me up with those large and interested eyes. Shamelessly sporting a small smile, this man wasn’t even hiding how he was watching me.
"Interesting. I'll get my Realtor to call you."
The old man left, and as if that was his cue, the tall and gorgeous stranger immediately took a step toward me. And another. And another. Unable to rip my eyes away from him, from that body, from that intense stare, I watched how he came closer, my feet rooted to the floor.
This was like a play, and I was sitting in the audience, watching the events unfold as if I had no control over my own reality.
Fuck me, this man was beautiful. Not handsome, not hot, no, that wasn’t enough—he wasbeautiful. His dark chestnut hair was wavy and styled back—relaxed—like he was on vacation. His cheekbones high, and his jaw sharp, those plump, pink lips were stretched out in a genuine smile, and his eyes were on me, like I was a target and he was a sniper.
Hiseyes. His eyes were green, pure, focused, and deceivingly comforting. His body was huge and powerful and was erasing the distance between us with everypassing second.
“Hello.”
That voice. Deep, smooth like velvet, each sound wrapped around me with ease.
This year marked my seventh year as a broker—I didn’t get intimidated anymore. I didn’t get scared or feel uncomfortable. But the way his eyes assessed me, the way he devoured every detail of my appearance, stirred unknown turmoil inside me. Somehow, he was even more mesmerizing up close, and I caught myself staring.
“Hello. I’m the listing broker; welcome.” I spewed out my practiced script with my usual fake smile, but neither he nor I blinked, caught in some dystopian battle of glances. Seconds passed. Too many seconds for this to be considered a regular pause in conversation. Why couldn’t I look away from this stranger?
I was tall—five feet and a whole ten inches—but I was dwarfed by him, probably a few centimeters short of two meters. His height and size were intimidating, undoubtedly, but it was the way he looked at me that left me truly breathless. Like he was waiting for something—for me to clue into who he was, or maybe for me to rip my eyes away from him. But my eyes were glued to his pure jade ones; I'd never seen anyone have that eye color before.
This man caught my attention with alarming intensity, and I finally blinked, realizing I was looking him over like he was some sort of museum exhibit.
"It's an open house, yes?" He prompted me with a small smile, noticing that I turned into a statue in front of him.
"Yes!" Ari loudly piped up beside me, but the man didn’t take his eyes off me, shaking Ari's hand without any dedication.
"Great. I'm looking for an apartment and a broker. Are you accepting new clients, Mia?"
What a turn of events. Two things were true. I had no idea how this man knew my name, and that made me borderline uncomfortable, and suddenly, I was intensely curious to find out what working with him would be like.
"You don’thave a broker?" Ari's voice sounded in the vicinity, but this man and I were still locked in a vortex, just us two, saying everything with our eyes but understanding nothing.
"No," he responded without emotion. What was that accent? "Can you show me this place? My name is Kirill, by the way." As if on cue, his gaze morphed into purehearted kindness, and his eyes sparkled in the afternoon light.
Eyes couldn’t really sparkle, could they? But his did. My throat was parched for an unknown reason, and I opened my mouth to respond, but a low voice interrupted this already chaotic moment.
"Kirill?" It was that mysterious woman who walked away with Ari a little while ago. Her hair ended right above her shoulders, and her sharp glare and deep, red lipstick added to her ruthless aura. "This place too small, I think." Her thick accent informed the man who I now knew as Kirill. She missed a word, and she sounded Russian—just like his name.
Oh. Of course. They were together. My cheeks blazed when I understood that I was almost literally drooling over a man who was taken. In a second, I put on my mask of professionalism, ignoring the sinking feeling inside my stomach.
"Maybe," Kirill responded to her without taking his eyes off me. "But I still want to look around. Show me?"
