Two Months and Three Days (Sinister Romance #1)

Chapter 3 (Part I)

The weird thing was that nobody seemed to have noticed him. Maybe they just didn't recognize him. Arina, however, recognized him immediately, despite the fact that Maxim Korshun, standing in the glass doors, looked very little like the person in the booklet picture. He was tall, relaxed and smiling. He was holding a beat-up backpack and looked like a tourist who had wandered into the museum by mistake. Somewhat tired, wearing dark sunglasses, plain worn jeans, sneakers, and a slightly creased t-shirt, he looked as if he had just got off a train and not like a star at all.

Only a big, heavy camera with a bulky lens hanging on his chest revealed his affiliation to the profession. His auburn hair was a completely different shade but just as messy. So, was the dark color just the effect of the flash, or did he dye his hair? Probably not. Most likely, his hair was in too great a contrast with the ocean abyss in the background making it look darker, or maybe it changed color depending on the season.

Arina looked at him but couldn't understand who or what he was looking at as his large, dark sunglasses almost covered half his face. Arina was standing aloof of the crowd of journalists, next to a large sphere. For a second she thought that Maxim Korshun was looking straight at her from behind his sunglasses, but that couldn't be right.

Someone shouted and the crowd moved and began to stir like an awakened beehive. Maxim turned towards the cameras. A woman with a huge microphone immediately rushed up to him. He took off his sunglasses and glanced over the crowd. He didn't even look at Arina.

"How was your flight?"

"Airy," Maxim said after a short pause. The people in the hall laughed.

"We are so happy that you chose Moscow for the opening presentation of your work. This has never happened before; all your past exhibits were put on in London or New York. What made you choose Moscow this time?" another journalist asked, holding out her voice recorder. Maxim was still standing at the door as if contemplating whether to come in.

"There is just too much traffic in New York," he shrugged, stepping into the crowd easily, with no apparent regret, then vanishing from sight.

Arina was instantly upset, although she assured herself that she had nothing to be upset about. It was all just a waste of time. Plus, what was she, a fool?! It was obvious that men like Korshun would always be separated from girls like Arina with a silk ribbon. Their place was on the red carpet. Arina's place was at her veterinary clinic with her cats.

The girl in high heels was having a heated argument with a security guard next to the tape, trying to get behind the fence. It wasn't working. The security guard simply turned away and completely ignored her.

Come on, Arina, just pick up your backpack, and get out of here. Play it safe!

Arina said the words to herself and immediately felt miserable. She stood up and grabbed her backpack but instead of heading towards the exit, she crossed the hall, turned round the corner, pushed the button to call the elevator, and literally flew into it as if she were running away from someone. Nobody was even looking at her; all the attention was still focused on Maxim Korshun.

The doors closed, finally separating Arina from the man who had made such a strong impression. Instead, she saw her own reflection, a young creature with black hair streaming out of a loose ponytail. She was breathing hard as if she were running away from a maniac. Her blushing cheeks stood out against her white skin; frightened eyes, her lips bitten from all the disappointment. What an idiot! What did she think was going to happen? After all, what did she care about the scandalous star?

She looked around, intimidated, wondering what to do next. The elevator doors opened on the third floor and Arina saw a photograph of the sun shining over the Siberian taiga on a white wall, just across the room.