The Tzar

Vera

-1-
 

    Everything started from here.
    The granddaughter of the Alekseev family, the youngest daughter, Vera Alekseev.
    19 years old from a russian father and an African mother, and the youngest between three sisters.
    I walked downstairs with quiet steps to not catch attention. I hate when those heads turn to pierce me with their gazes as if they never seen a girl before.
    My eyes roamed around the black suits and the short graceful dresses until I found my sisters.
    Three tulips flowers; Natasha, Diana and Alyona.
    Three blondes standing in their sumptuous dresses like mermaids, shinning under the hall's light.
    Their beauty is thanks to my father's strong gens. But why didn't I get much from them?
    I got used to everyone telling that I look so much like my mom—even if I don't remember her much—. Bronze skin, plump red lips, brown eyes, and curly long dark hair—that I usually straighten it—.A typical beauty.
    What I inherited from my dad was his height. Unlike my sisters who got his blond hair, blue sea eyes, milky skin. Just like roses in the beginning of the spring, florid and ostentatious. But even if, I've never envied them nor got jealous. I've always believed that everybody has his own beauty. I do believe that.
    Please, I hope I do.
    I stopped next to them, as the eldest—with her green silky dress that shows her cleavage clearly—laughed, "You look breathtaking, Vera. That white dress makes your skin glow, sweetie."
    "That was my choice, Diana," the girl with the red skimpy dress, aka Alyona, grinned widely.
    I smiled softly—as I always do when I get a compliment—and I mumbled a small "Thank you."
    Natasha chuckled—or Barbie as I call her—, and turned around herself, showing us her purple floor-lenght dress, hugging her curves in the right places, with a big slit on her long left leg. "What about me? I didn't hear compliments!"
    Diana elbowed her, "Vera is the centre of the ceremony tonight. She's the only single here."
    "You should find a handsome business man here, y'know. Or a sugar daddy who can spoil you with his wealth," Natasha added with a stuffed laugh.
    I rolled my eyes at their comments, crossing my arms as I hissed at them, "You talk like you're all married. If I'll get a relationship as one of yours, I prefer staying single forever."
    The three of them laughed—despite their glares—. "Then wait for your prince charming on a white horse—who doesn't exist in anywhere but your romance books—." Alyona protested with some sharp sarcasm, but I tried to ignore the bitterness in my throat.
    It's not the time to feel insecure, Vera.
    I sighed and I brushed my bangs off my face, trying to keep my voice steady. "Firstly, I'm not looking for a prince charming, I'm looking for a scarred knight. Secondly, I don't read romance, it's dark romance. And thirdly, I'll keep waiting," my voice was slightly indifferent as I leaned against the table and I turned my gaze to the guests.
    The three blondes ignored the topic as well and turned to their silly conversation about their stupid lovers, meanwhile I was staring at the void and sipping a glass of champagne—the waiter just offered seconds ago—. My ears rang from the hypocritical laughters of the crowd. Fake compliments, sly intentions, and predatory eyes roaming around to hunt down their next prey.
    My father used to organize social gatherings and ceremonies in our mansion for many reasons, if it was for business, celebration, or charity event. But tonight, he didn't mention the reason behind that surprising party. And as his only daughters, and the only remaining of the Alekseev, we had to attend without questions.
    It wasn't bad or boring at some point, but I would've prefer to stay in my room, wearing my shorts and tank top while reading one of my books, rather than standing here with that short tight dress—even if it was just a cocktail dress—.
In a blink, the hall turned soundless. The voices vanished to turned into hushed whispers. My sisters stopped their conversation as well to turn towards the direction of the steps that approach slowly.
    I felt as something wasn't at place, and out of curiosity, I turned my face towards that attention-catcher thing or person.
    Holly fuck! Who got my fictional man out my book?!
    My breath caught in my throat and I started hearing the roar of my heart in my ears, quick and anarchic. He was walking with steady steps, as if he knows that he owns the world in his fist. His jet black hair was combed to the back neatly—I bet a strand hadn't the audacity to fall on his forehead—. Those green tiger-like eyes. That chiseled jaw that was shaper than the Damascus Sword. That clean shaved face. And that black three-pieces suit that screams wealth—probably one and only collection in the world, tailored especially for him—, hugging his huge muscled body like a Greek God.
    I didn't know when until my father pushed past the guests towards him and greeted the hypnotizing man with a very wide smile. But the other didn't bother himself than giving back a faint nod.
    "Who's that damn guy!?," Alyona whispered with excitement, her eyes fucking him.
    "Пиздец! I got wet just from staring at him," Natasha added as well.
Diana glared at her, "Behave, girl."
    Meanwhile I just kept staring at the tiger-like man who walked into the centre of the hall, making all the heads turn towards him. My father putted his hand on the man's shoulder, and started speaking with loud voice—enough for all the guests to hear—, "Good evening, everyone. It's my honour to have you all here for that special event. Tonight, I want to celebrate with you my new partnership with one of the most powerful businesses men, Mr. Taehyung Orlov, the heir of the Orlov Group. And for that case, let's raise a toast for our new partnership," he raised a glass of champagne, as everybody did after him, "and will last forever." Then he drowned down the liquid.
    I didn't take another sip from my glass since Taehyung's sudden appearance, and clearly he didn't too as he just kept staring at me—since my father started talking—and his knuckles turning white around the glass. He looked scary and somehow... Astounding. Raw masculinity radiating from him with dark and unconcealed aura.
    Diana whispered, dragging me out of my thoughts, "I've heard that he has an iron fist in the underworld business."
    "Mafia?" I asked.
    "Yup. The rumours says that he rules a huge organization, reigning Europe and Asia. But those are just rumours, and maybe he's an innocent business man."
    Innocent my ass. I'd believe anything but him innocent. He doesn't look like a one. Maybe a robot? Yes—since he didn't show any emotion since he stepped here, not even a smile—. "So a mafia in a Millikin Colt gun at night and a neat business man in Tom Ford suit at day?"
    The girls chuckled, and Natasha commented, "Here's she, using her books quotes again."
    I huffed and turned around, welcomed by the penetrating gaze of someone's eyes. Tiger's eyes.
    I frowned at him—despite my heart that was about to make a hole through my ribcage—, silently asking him to move his eyes away, but he responded just with a smirk. A fucking smirk that made my guts wrench and twist into knocks, as I felt the heat creep to my cheeks.
    His lazy gaze remained on me for more few seconds before he turned it towards my father, who was talking nonstop since the announcement of the partnership.

~~

    The party went by until the middle of the night before everyone left. Also the tiger-like eyes left his his bodyguards. I took a deep breath. Finally I'll go back to my bed.
    My sisters had already left to their rooms, and I so walked upstairs towards my room, but I stopped abruptly when the maid's voice reached my ears, "Young Miss, Mr. Dimitri wants you in his office."
    I froze. I know that my father doesn't request our presence in his office until it's an important matter.
    "Young miss, follow me."
    My six-years-old self followed the maid to my father's office, my hand clutching the stuffed tiger in my tiny hands. I entered the big office through the oak double door. The scent of wood, ink and cigarettes hit my nostrils. I've always felt intimated by my father's office. It radiates a dark atmosphere that my six-years-old self despise as a girl who sees everything bright and colourful.
    I stopped in front of my father, who was sitting behind his desk, folding his hands on the desktop and staring at the void, his eyes blood-shot red and his hair disheveled, not like my neat and composed father I know. The memory still brings sickness to my stomach.
    I kept staring at him with doe eyes, clutching the tiger in my arms.
    His voice came low, hoarse and bitter, digging knifes into my chest, "Your mother passed away."
    I shook my head, throwing my back the memories as I nodded to the maid. I turned around and I descended the stairs. I made my way to the double door and I knocked. The hoarse voice came from inside, "Come in."
    I pushed the door open and I walked in, closing it behind me as I approached the desk cautiously. I stopped in front of him, folding my hands in front of me like the good girl I am.
    The old man's blue eyes looked up at me. I always appreciated my father's handsomeness—and as the girls do, so I'm really afraid that he might bring another heir, even if I don't mind it—. "How old are you, Vera?" He spoke with his native language, Russian, and when my father switches his language, I know that I'm doomed.
    "I'm nineteen, father." I responded, slightly confused about the stupid question.
    My father nodded his head slowly, his index and middle fingers spinning the Fulgor Nocturnus fountain pen—an old present from my grandfather to him—. "Do you have a boyfriend?" He added.
    I raised an eyebrow suspiciously, and I answered with caution in my voice, "No."
    If you just know, my father, how much your daughter is innocent.
    "How was the party?"
    "Good."
    "What about my new partner?"
    "The tiger-lik— I mean, Mr. Orlov?" I swallowed as I remembered his eyes staring at my soul.
    "Yes. He's handsome and rich, and also a gentleman. Every woman's dream."
    Not my dream. I admit that I've been always fantasizing about a man like him, but not like him. He's way scarier than I could want and obviously not the type of men who will turn out to be a pookie in your arms.
    My father didn't wait for my answer and continued, his fountain pen drawing random circles on a paper, "It was really hard to get him into my business. As a very powerful man, he always looks for the best goods, and he sets price to anything he gives, and that partnership wasn't free."
    I felt the ground sway for a moment and everything went blurry. My body felt limp and as if a bucket of cold water splashed on me, all icy and trembling. Of course I read behind his sentences, and it was something pleasant to discover. I clutched my dress and I spoke, my voice coming as a trembled whisper that I couldn't control, "And what was the price?"
    "You."
    One word, three letters and a pointing meaning was enough to make the champagne in my stomach raise up to my throat. I don't appreciate your handsomeness anymore, father.

To be continued...