"What Are You Waiting For?" || ORIGINAL STORY.

Chapter Five.

Tanya's POV.

Darren Marakov.

I've seen his face on magazines, billboards, and all over TV.

He was a damn model.

A drop-dead gorgeous one, at that.

His blue eyes, his sharp features, his jaw, his lips, his snow-blonde hair..

Holy fuck.

He was breathtakingly handsome, there was no denying it.

His blue eyes scanned the room, taking everything in—then, they landed on me.

My heart skipped a beat as our gazes met.

I suddenly felt self-conscious.

Here I was, looking like a hot mess, standing right in front of the famous, sexy model.

His gaze seemed to linger on me, as if studying my dishevelled appearance.

I tried to compose myself, smoothening my messy hair and running a hand down my wrinkled clothes.

But it was too late, he had already seen me in such a state.

Darren's expression was unreadable, his lips pressed into a thin line.

His eyes then moved to Derrick. 

"Brother, nice organisation, eh." He said.

Holy fucking—motherfucking goddamn God.

His voice. 

His fucking voice.

I felt myself growing nervous, yet simping like shit.

I had only seen him in photographs before, but hearing him speak in person sent shivers down my spine.

His words were calm and measured, yet they had an underlying authority to them.

Darren glared at Derrick and Claire, seeming annoyed by the mess despite having little to no emotion on his face.

"Yeah, yeah, we had a little cushion fight," Derrick explained sheepishly.

"I can see that," Darren replied, his eyes darting back to me momentarily before returning to his brother. "Who started it, may I ask?"

Claire seemed a bit nervous to respond, licking the inside of her lips.

And so, I did what came to mind.

"It was my idea," I spoke up, raising my hand slightly.

All the attention shifted to me, especially Darren's gaze.

His eyes met mine again, and I swear, the temperature in the room seemed to rise.

He raised an eyebrow at me, his eyes studying me intently.

"And what might your name be, milashka?" He asked, his slight Russian accent adding an extra touch of allure to his words.

I was confused at the word 'milashka', but I responded, "Tanya."

He repeated my name with his accent, "Tanya," as if testing it on his tongue.

Hearing him say my name like that, in his slight Russian-accented voice?

It sounded damn sexy.

His gaze remained fixed on me, making me both nervous and excited at the same time.

Just then, Derrick spoke up, pulling his brother's attention away from me.

"She's a new friend." He explained.