Chapter 17

The next day—

Austin had to leave early in the morning, as Yaroslav’s scenes were starting today. Christin had been informed to work out more and buff up his body, since both Yaroslav and Ivan were soldiers in their early thirties.

Christin watched a few romance movies, tried to copy their emotions and line delivery, and videotaped himself. He studied the recordings—it still didn’t work. He realised he needed a person to watch him and give feedback.

He realised something else too: he was depending too much on Austin, to the point that in his absence he felt helpless.

He leaned back in his chair, going through his lines again. Then his eyes drifted to the calendar on his desk. He had an exam in a week. Stress settled in.

He looked at the picture of his parents that he had brought along—and the small photograph of Papa that had come with the letter. He had carefully tucked it into the same frame.
“What should I do?” he asked quietly.

Suddenly, his phone buzzed.

Mariya — What’s up, pumpkin? Everything okay so far? It’s my day off today. Let me know if you need me for anything.

A soft smile washed over his tense face. He called Mariya.

“Hi, pumpkin. You’re not working today?” she asked.

“More like my work has been pushed away so that I can improve my skills first,” he replied, almost complaining.

Mariya giggled.

“I need to rehearse my lines,” Christin admitted, “but I don’t understand how I should show emotions when someone yearns for me—or confesses to me.”

“My goodness,” she chuckled. “You’ve surely grown up. Maybe I should come to your location and help you.”

“No—no, Mariya. It’s alright,” he said quickly, worried.

“Let me see,” she said, refusing to back down, “I don’t have work tomorrow either. Worst case, I’ll stay the night at the resort. I heard Andrei booked the whole building.”

Christin realised he couldn’t change her mind.
“Alright,” he said softly. “But be careful.”

The call ended.

He texted Austin to inform him beforehand—no reply.

He’s probably busy, he thought.

To his surprise, time passed quickly as he busied himself pacing up and down the room, organising it and getting some snacks ready.
He checked his phone—still no reply from Austin.

But another unexpected message popped up.

Andrei — Hey, you asked Mariya to come over? I could have helped you instead.

He replied:
Mariya told you? You would’ve been busier picking a fight with Austin instead.

Andrei — He asks for it.

Christin was pissed off. He left the message on read.

Soon, the telephone in the room rang.

“Mr. Vasiliev, a lady named Mariya Dimitriev is here to visit you,” the receptionist informed him.

“Yes, please send her to my room. She’s my cousin,” Christin confirmed.

Ding, dong!

Christin hurried to open the door. A brunette with long, curly hair stood waiting.

He hugged her, took her luggage, and brought her inside.
“You said worst case you might stay, not that you would stay overnight,” he said, worried.

“The co-producer, Mr. Singh, didn’t have a problem. So, no one else should either,” she replied in her commanding voice, studying the room.

Christin didn’t appreciate the sudden decision, but he was happy she was here.

“My bed is the one near the door. The other one belongs to Austin,” he explained. “I ordered lunch for us—it should be here any moment now.” He glanced at the clock.

The bell rang again. Christin opened the door and received the trays.

“That’s a lot of food,” Mariya said, shocked to see him talking comfortably with the server. She had been told by Andrei about Christin’s progress, but seeing it in person felt different.

“It’s for three people. Would you like to eat now? I ordered some light refreshments too.”

“Let’s wait for your colleague,” she said. “I don’t really have an appetite right now.”

“Alright.” Christin placed the food in the fridge.

“Let’s start your rehearsal,” Mariya said excitedly. “I want to see you act.”

Christin felt embarrassed.
“Honestly, I’m not very good. Others are way better than me. But I was told I’ve improved. My shoot starts next week. I also need to work on my body—look more muscular,” he said, checking himself in the mirror.

“Show me your lines. Want me to read the other character’s part?” she asked eagerly.

“Sure,” Christin agreed.

They rehearsed once.

“My goodness, Pumpkin,” she said bluntly. “Your acting feels comical—like you’re copying emotions, but there’s no depth.”

“I know…” he felt dejected.

“Have you really never had an incident where someone flirted with you—or you with them?” she asked, worried.
“You’re young. This age is about falling in love. What about high school? No crushes? Confessions? Proposals? Valentine’s chocolates?” She sounded frustrated.

“Mariya” he interrupted. “I was busy with modelling—and then you know what happened the moment I became an adult.”

Her expression darkened.
“What about before that? Life wasn’t difficult. We made sure you, Eva, and Alisa enjoyed your childhood,” she said quietly.

“Do you remember when Eva brought her boyfriend home and broke up with him the same day?” Christin asked softly. “You, Aunt, and Sofiya weren’t home.”

“Yes… that was sudden,” Mariya said slowly. “We thought she’d introduce him to us, but instead they broke up…”

“That day…” Christin hesitated, words catching in his throat.
“He thought I was a girl. When Eva stepped away, he touched me from the back and put his hand inside my shirt…”

His head lowered. He couldn’t look at her.

Mariya froze.
“Why didn’t any of you tell us?” she whispered, realising Christin had been around fourteen or fifteen. Her heart sank.

“Eva saw it and beat him up. Alisa was terrified,” Christin said, taking a shaky breath.
“After that, I stopped caring if anyone was interested in me.”

Mariya was stunned. Three children carrying something that heavy alone.

She pulled him into a tight hug.
“No more secrets from now on,” she said firmly.
She lifted his face. “You know how much we love you, right?”
Then her voice hardened. “If I’d known, I would’ve hit that guy myself.”

Christin laughed softly.
“I know you would.”

Mariya stood up to change, needing a moment to compose herself.

A couple of minutes later, the bell rang again.

“Christin, it’s me,” Austin called. He was back.

Christin opened the door.
“How was it?” he asked curiously.

“It felt like the director was trying to cover an entire week’s worth of shooting in one day,” Austin said as he walked in. “No breaks at all. Stunt scenes too. My shoulder hurts a little,” he added, sounding exhausted.

Christin looked at him with concern. He noticed a light scratch on Austin’s face.
“You’re hurt,” he said, reaching up to touch it.

“It’s just makeup”, he rested his face into Christin’s hand, “I was exhausted, so I told them I’d clean it up in my room.”

Christin was surprised. He examined Austin closely.
He certainly looked more mature for his age—so that’s how they made him look older. It was convincing.
“You look like an old guy,” he thought aloud.

Austin’s brows twitched. He walked past Christin—definitely annoyed.

Christin rushed after him.
“Hey, I was kidding! I was appreciating the skills of the makeup artist,” he said.

“I can see you holding back your smile, Christin,” Austin scoffed.
“I’m tired. I don’t want to argue,” he added, checking the time on his phone.
“And I still have to work out.”
Now he looked genuinely irritated.

Maybe I should use that, Christin thought.

He stepped closer and looked Austin in the eyes. With a soft, gentle smile, he said,
“I got your iced coffee and lunch. Want me to set up the table?”
His eyes were full of affection.

Austin’s frown slowly disappeared.
“You ordered lunch for me?” he asked, his tone easing. He stepped closer.
“You really are kind, Mr. Vasiliev,” he teased.

He pulled Christin into a warm embrace.
“Are you trying to take care of your lover?” he whispered, leaning in.

Christin placed his hands on Austin’s chest, “Why— is something wrong with that—”

“Christin!”

Mariya stepped out of the washroom, frozen in shock.

“Mariya—wait! Don’t jump to conclusions!” Christin blurted out, abruptly pushing Austin away.

“What are you two doing?” she yelled.

Austin was even more startled.
“Who are you?” he asked sharply.

Christin sighed. He looked at Mariya, then pointed at Austin.
“My co-worker—Austin Ivanov.”
Then he turned to Austin, who was visibly agitated.
“Mariya—one of my four cousins.”