10 - The Banquete
1390 Words
Sophia POV:
Before I can answer his question about my dress, the old man introduces himself to me.
“I am Peter Morozov, you must be Sophia. Please excuse my grandson’s behavior.” He gives Aleksandr a pointed look.
“So, you’re the one Aleks currently has his eye on?”
I blush. “It’s nice to meet you Mr. Morozov.”
The old man nods slightly in acknowledgment. A few moments of awkward silence plagues us before Aleksandr clears his throat, and says,
“We need to speak, Sophia. Excuse us, dyedushka.”
He grabs my arm firmly, and pulls me away to another room where we’re alone. The door shuts, and I feel myself being pinned between the wall and Aleks’ body, once again.
“That went well.” He smirks.
My brows twist in confusion.
“You’re.. you’re not upset?” I ask.
He scoffs at my question. “Nyet.” He says ‘no’ in Russian. “In fact, I’m quite impressed with your performance.”
“It wasn’t a performance.” I say, “I had no idea that he was your grandfather. In fact, why wasn’t he included in that binder of profiles you gave me to memorize?” Now I was feeling upset. Ill prepared for the situation I was just in.
Morozov rose a brow.
“I wasn’t sure of your acting abilities. Your meeting him needed to be genuine, and you did well babochka.” His eyes trailed over me, making me feel trapped..and also warm.
“You clean up well.” He adds, while brushing a strand of hair from my cheek. Then his eyes travel down to my dress. “Was the dress I chose for you not to your liking?”
I swallowed hard. “Red isn’t my color.”
“Bullshit.”
I sigh, “I’m sorry..I just..” I couldn’t find the words to explain myself without telling him the truth.
The finger he used to brush my hair travels down my neck and traces the low neckline of my dress. My skin burns where his rough hands make contact, and my chest rises and falls more heavily.
“I’m not complaining.” He says into my ear, and I’m filled with relief. “Just surprised is all. You can wear whatever you like.”
His lips graze the bottom of my ear lobe and I hitch a breath.
“Is..umm..was that all I had..” Speaking is difficult in our current position, but I manage to find my voice. “..to do tonight?”
“Nyet.” He pulls away, taking my breath with him, and putting some space between us. “It was important, but now you must meet some other people. People who need to believe that we are engaged to be wed.”
“Alright. Let’s go then.”
“That’s the spirit.” He smirks again, and leads me out of the room back into party.
-
Morozov wraps my arm around his, and parades me around the event.
“Remember, these people can smell fear.” He whispers.
I roll my eyes at him, but I don’t neglect to take the warning seriously. Many of these people belong to other mafia organizations. Some are trained killers for hire, and others are just money bags who like to mix company with the mob for their own advantages.
We mingle and make light conversation with each group we approach. My answers to their questions are kept simple and short. I let him do most of the talking. Morozov casually mentions our engagement to a few people, and by their reactions I can tell why he’s chosen them to inform. Their eyes light up with mischief and intrigue. He tells the select few that he knows will spread the information like wildfire.
It isn’t long before a man announces dinner will be served, and the silent auction will begin shortly.
We make our way to a private table that’s close enough to the stage that we can easily see the items on display. All of the proceeds supposedly go to some charity of some sort, but I wouldn’t be surprised if this whole banquet was a hoax. A cover for all these rich suits to claim as a tax break. My jaw tightens a bit at the thought.
“Is something wrong?” Aleks whispers in my ear.
“Huh? Oh no, I’m alright Darling.” I place my hand gently to his cheek before taking the seat he has pulled out for me.
Those sitting closest to us were watching our every move, so I decided to give them something to see. Especially one woman in particular whose gaze has been on us the entire night. The obnoxiously fire hydrant-red haired woman from earlier tonight.
He only allows a millisecond of surprise to cross his features, before playing along with my little display. His approving smile sends a small wave of pride through me as I take my seat. Making it a point not to look at the red head just a few yards away. Despite feeling her gaze burning into me.
-
Items are brought on stage, and the announcer speaks about each one briefly before beginning the bids.
Ungodly sized jewels, vacation trips, a boat..all sorts of things grace the stage and it’s an enormous effort to contain my shock when the winning bids are announced.
Towards the end of the auction, the last few items are brought to the stage all at once and the first of the last pulls a hushed little gasp straight from my lips.
It was a necklace. The most simple of any of the jewelry that had been shown tonight, and yet, the most beautiful I’d ever seen. An opal stone, cut like a tear drop, sat in the center hugged on all sides by tiny diamonds. It’s such a simple piece, compared to the Harry Winston’s that have been auctioned off this evening, but it’s perfect.
“Juliet’s Stone.” The announcer calls it, and he goes on to explain that it’s someone’s precious family heirloom, but has been generously donated for tonight’s event. Perhaps the original owners have no children of their own to leave it to.
I try to casually look about the room as the bidding starts. I’m eager to see who’ll take the jewel home with them tonight, and whom it is that I’ll be envious of.
“$20,000!”
“Do I see $25,000?”
“You sir! Thank you! $30,000?”
Can that tiny thing truly be worth that much? I get the feeling that these people are just getting competitive or wanting the necklace so that someone else can’t have it. I feel myself getting anxious.
It’s too dark to see all the active bidders, and some tonight are using bidding silently or with a proxy.
“SOLD! For $85,000!”
I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat. I hadn’t realized the price was rising so drastically until the very end.
A large hand rests itself on my exposed thigh.
“Are you alright?” Morozov asks.
The concern in his eyes seems almost genuine, but it’s the light calming rub of his thumb along my skin that slows my heart.
“Of course.” I smile. Shoving any anxiety far away and remembering who I’m supposed to be tonight.
I’m afraid he doesn’t believe me, and it’s all I can manage not to let panic set back in. He doesn’t think I can do this. He’s going to fire me. Find someone else to do this job.
Morozov is about to say something more, but is interrupted by Andre’s approach. He whispers something in his ear, and whatever it was caused my fake fiancé to clench his jaw.
“Ivan will escort you to your car..I have business to attend to.” Morozov instructs, and leaves no space for a response as he gets up and marches away with Andre at his side.
Don’t act surprised. Don’t be upset. Don’t be confused. This is all normal for me.
I repeat these things to myself, willing my poker face to remain in tact.
Ivan arrives at the table quickly.
“Collect your things Miss Sophia, it is time for us to leave.”
- Writer
