His Wicked Temptation

Chapter Eight

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animus
(m.) desire

ROSABELLE

At last, we have arrived at the long-awaited destination. I wanted to squeal in happiness the moment I looked out of the window and saw the striking, majestic red building in view.

We were at Red Square, the largest and most famous square in Russia. I couldn't help but reflect on the countless tales I'd heard of travelers embarking on their Russian adventure. Bloggers and travelers often recount their inaugural visit to Red Square, and now, it was my turn.

"Oh my God," I exclaimed as I and Emi stepped out of the car. "Emi, do you often bring ladies to visit such places? No wonder you're so popular," I left the word 'playboy' unspoken, not wanting to create any uncomfortable atmosphere for him. "Quite the romanticist," I sighed.

I had already heard a lot about Emi from Tatiana, my only news provider in Moscow. The way that man treated women, they would almost believe they were the only ones in his life.

"You like it, Belle?" Emi asked as he looked down at me, his eyes reflecting an unreadable emotion. "I love it!" I chirped.

The more we walked forward, the more the thumping of my heart beating against my chest fastened, my excitement grew.

Standing amidst the grandeur of Red Square, I gazed upon the cobblestone expanse. I was struck by the sheer magnitude of history that this square held. It stretched out majestically, adorned with iconic landmarks that seemed plucked from the pages of a fairy tale. At its center, the resplendent St. Basil's Cathedral, with its colorful onion domes, stood as an enduring symbol of Russia's architectural prowess.

The Kremlin walls, a formidable fortress of power and politics, loomed on one side, guarding centuries of secrets and intrigues. On another side, the sprawling GUM department store gleamed like a palace of luxury shopping, its historical significance as a Soviet-era marketplace merging seamlessly with modern elegance.

The square exuded an atmosphere of grandiosity, where the echoes of parades, celebrations, and historical events seemed to reverberate through time. It was a place where the past and the present harmoniously coexisted, where tourists and locals alike came to bask in its vibrant energy.

Guess, I was never taking back my statement about Russia becoming my favorite country.

"Can we take pictures?" I asked the man beside me with eagerness laced behind my voice. "Of course," his response was rather indifferent, in fact, to be precise, his whole demeanor remained indifferent.

I wondered why that was.

"Have you been here before, Emi?" I couldn't search for any other reasons in my mind for why a person wouldn't be amazed by such astonishing view unless they had already visited the place before. Fortunately, my assumption was confirmed when he nodded his head. "Yes, many times in fact. My dad was quite the enthusiast. He loved visiting historical places, so he used to bring us here often in his free hours of times."

The heaviness in his voice was almost imperceptible, but it didn't escape my notice. Nobody would detect the gloom that crossed this man's eyes for a thin moment of time unless they paid close attention, but it didn't take long for Emi to recover his playful facade. He looked down at me with a grin. "I don't suppose we come all this way for you to only admire me, Belle. I know I'm a pretty man, but I assure you, I'm not going anywhere. You can see me all you want after we leave this place, no?"

I scoffed at the cocky way of his tone, blushing at the realization that how he always caught me looking at him for an unnecessary amount of time, even when his gaze roamed elsewhere, he just knew.