Two Months and Three Days (Sinister Romance #1)

Chapter 6 (Part I)

"Hey, are you asleep?!" Nellie's voice pierced Arina's precious sleep from afar. At first, Arina thought that the voice was part of her dream but after a few minutes, she opened her eyes. Nellie was sitting next to her, shaking her shoulder, and hissing at her like a snake.

"What's wrong?" Arina muttered, perplexed. It was dark outside, the middle of the night. She looked at the round kitchen clock; it was 1:30 in the morning. The pill was working and she really wanted to sleep. Her exam and the night shift were coming up tomorrow. "Oh, my God, why did you wake me up? Now I won't be able to fall asleep again."

"Have you lost your mind?" Nellie stared at her. "Forget about sleep. Tell me, is this the photographer you met?"

A picture of Maxim Korshun appeared in front of Arina's sleepy face. She saw his gloomy, angry face on a turquoise background.

"No!" Arina literally jumped on the couch, turning away from the tablet Nellie was holding. She felt as though she'd been winded from a blow to the stomach. She had already said goodbye to him, let go of the memory of him, and taken the sleeping pill after all! Why would Nellie torture her like that?

"Is it him or not?" Nellie screamed. "Tell me, you idiot!" Arina just sat there, paralyzed, pale, and unable to turn away from the handsome, cold face on the screen.

"To hell with you!" Nellie gestured. "I know it's him. How on earth did you manage to meet him?"

"What are you talking about?" Arina was staring at the picture against her will, not even looking up. He was so handsome. She was dying to see him again! She wanted him to touch her again, to run his hand over her hair. It would be very hard to forget him.

"Dear God, she doesn't even understand!" Nellie flung up her hands. "Why wasn't I there? Of all things! How are we going to look for him now?"

"Look for him? Why? I don't want to look for anyone! Please put your tablet away," Arina begged but Nellie wasn't listening. She seemed strange, not quite normal. Maybe that's what the whole thing was about? Maybe she ate one of the pills that Andrei gave her and now she was delirious? But where did she get Maxim's picture from? Why did she care about him? Was this perverted sadism some sort of revenge for Arina's not approving of her idea of accepting money from her lovers? Did she want to show her what it felt like to be lovesick?

"The father of the infamous photographer, Maxim Korshun, is no other than Konstantin Korshunov, a Russian oligarch, whose wealth has been estimated at 12 billion dollars. During the Soviet Union, he was an active member of the Communist Party and served as a secretary of the provincial committee. What does a provincial committee do? Anyway, this is not important. Let's see, what else? He was born January 3, 1946 in Moscow."

"Who? Who was born? Maxim?" Arina looked at her raving girlfriend with sleepy eyes.

"Are you stupid? Nineteen forty-six? His father, of course. Do you understand who you've met sleepyhead?" Nellie was burning Arina alive with her eyes.

"Who?" Arina repeated the question on autopilot.

"Your Maxim Korshun is the only son of an oligarch whose wealth has been e-sti-ma-ted," she recited in a sing-song voice, "at twelve billion dollars. Can you imagine twelve billion dollars? I'm getting horny just thinking about it!"

"All the more so! Who cares now?" Arina shrugged her shoulders. She was definitely interested in what Nellie had discovered. Arina tried to imagine Maxim and . . . all these Courchevels, golden toilets, and palaces located on private islands. The contrast between all that and his worn t-shirt and the backpack that had seen better days was striking.

"Who cares? Do you think this happens every day?"

"It's probably a mistake."

"It's not!" Nellie shoved the tablet with the interview that Mr. Konstantin Korshunov gave Forbes magazine a few years ago right under Arina's nose. Arina saw a picture of Maxim in his twenties or maybe even younger. It was him. It was definitely him. Arina turned pale and looked away.

". . . the success of Sequences over the past year..."

"What?" Arina started.

"Say what now?" Nellie didn't understand.

"You said, Sequences? Did I hear you right?" Arina repeated her question.

"The exhibit in New York last year," Nellie explained. "Here's more. 'Korshun rarely gives interviews and does not flaunt his kinship with one of the richest people in our country.'"

"I've noticed that," Arina nodded.

"Wait! Listen to this! 'Meanwhile, his father is the owner of one of Russia's largest companies, Neftorus Trans'. Oh my God, I'm going to fall into a trance right now!" Nellie kept reading. "Do you even understand what the chances are of an ordinary silly girl like you meeting a real oligarch?"

"The son of an oligarch," Arina corrected her.

"The only son of an oligarch!" Nellie added.