Chapter 7

  At the hotel, he knew no one, yet many of them would know him.

  Deciding it was too soon to go in alone, Christin signalled his security team. Within minutes, five large men in black uniforms surrounded him, maintaining a respectful distance of three to four meters while ensuring no one approached. They had all been handpicked by Eva, which gave Christin some measur9-66582e of comfort.

  As Christin entered the hotel, they checked in at the reception desk. The receptionist couldn’t help stealing glances at the Russian Paradox, her cheeks flushing bright red. A porter approached and offered to help with the luggage, which Christin accepted.

  A few steps inside, his body betrayed him.

  His hands trembled. Cold sweat broke across his skin.

  Every passerby—crew members, staff, strangers—paused to stare. Soft murmurs filled the air.

  “He’s so beautiful… how is he a man?” someone whispered.

  “What do you mean? He’s clearly well-built and charismatic. Look at his strong physique,” another murmured back.

  “What a show-off,” someone scoffed. “All the other main leads came without security, but he needs five men just to walk him in.”

  “I know, right?” another voice added. “All that talk about his phobia is probably just an act. Celebrities these days will do anything for attention.”

  That one hurt.

  Still, standing there, unsure where to go next, the noise pressed in on him from all sides.

  Then, from behind him, he heard a familiar voice call out his name.

  “Christin!”

  He turned around; Austin was checking in with the receptionist and his luggage being taken away. As he thanked the staff for their service, he approached Christin, surprised by huge men keeping him at bay.

  “My security team”, Christin explained.

  “They were not there when we met in that restaurant?”, Austin asks for clarification, wondering what made him need to use security.

  “No, they were there in the Dining area, in disguise, the floor below us”, Christin explained, “I never needed their help then, because you helped me”, he adds.

  “Oh, I see, are you feeling okay, right now?”, Austin tried checking on him. Christin felt little unapproachable today. “How was the drive? Mine was hectic. Director told me it was on Highway 43, this hotel is close to Highway 47”, he was definitely mad at the Director, “Highway 43 takes you to the next city!”

  “Mine was fine!”, Christin replied, “Andrei told me the way beforehand”.

  A stern Austin, with furrowed eyebrows and a displeased look was a familiar one, no wonder he was chosen for the Villain’s role.

  “So, where do we go from here?”, Christin asked. He gestured his bodyguard to disperse.

  Austin looked confused, but still angry at the Director, asked Christin, “Why send them away? We are still in the lounge?”

  Christin took a glance at Austin, and replies, “You look much fiercer than them at the moment. I don’t think anybody would approach us right now”, he smiled, still conscious of his surroundings.

  “Right, very funny!”, slightly annoyed by the fact Christin was enjoying it.

  “Besides, you told me to take up the challenge”, he looked at Austin.

  Austin looked at Christin’s determined eyes, and finally calmed down, “How about we check out our room”, he suggested, “Its room 113”. He then starts taking the lead towards the hallway leading towards their room. He suddenly looked back to check on Christin. Poor Christin was having a hard time following Austin, he was stuttering, trying to call Austin, but also trying to keep a distance from the crowd. “Oh no”, he rushed back to Christin and apologized. “Let’s do this again!”, he reassured Christin, he wouldn’t leave his side this time.

  “How?”, asked Christin, over-whelmed with his surroundings.

  “How about one of us walk in the front and the other follows behind, and I think it should clearly be you taking the lead. Or would you like to hold hands?”, asked Austin.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  “No!”, Christin strongly rejected the offer to hold hands. “Let me walk in the front, ma-make sure no one approaches me from the back”, Christin commanded.

  “Okay!”, Austin agreed. Maybe holding hands is a little too much right now, he thought to himself, as he proceeded to think how much they needed to work to close up the gap they had right now.

  Taking their time, they eventually reached their room.

  Christin was exhausted—tired of constantly being on guard. He rarely spent time in public spaces. Standing there now, he realized he would have to work much harder on his recovery.

  He took out the key and unlocked the door with his shaky hands.

  Austin followed a few steps behind, but suddenly remembered what had happened at the restaurant. He stopped, stepped back outside, and gently knocked on the door.

  “Christin,” he called softly. “May I come in?”

  Christin looked at him, then glanced around the room. He was alone inside, while Austin stood outside, waiting patiently for permission. The suite was indeed large and spacious. After a brief hesitation, he nodded.

  “Yes.”

  Austin entered carefully, his movements deliberate and unhurried.

  As Christin began taking in the room, Austin observed him quietly. Then he gestured toward the beds.

  “They’re spaced far apart,” he said gently. “What do you think?”

  “I don’t know,” Christin admitted. “I’ve never shared a room with anyone outside my family.”

  “Would you like to explore the suite together?” Austin suggested.

  “Okay,” Christin said, following his lead.

  Just as Austin had described over the phone, the suite was elegant and thoughtfully arranged. A compact counter held a sink, two coffee mugs, and a coffee machine.

  “You also have a study desk,” Austin said, pointing to the desk near the wide window.

  He had stayed away from home before—but always with Andrei. Aunt Polina had never liked the idea of him traveling alone. Still, he had expected something much simpler for this filming project.

  “I thought directors and producers spent money on the film itself,” Christin remarked, momentarily forgetting that Austin was one of the producers, “not on the actors’ comfort.”

  Austin chuckled softly.

  “We were actually planning something simpler,” he explained. “But our co-producer insisted it. He wouldn’t listen to anything else.”

  He paused thoughtfully.

  “He didn’t want any public access to the building—no paparazzi either. Very generous,” Austin added.

  Christin smiled faintly.

  It wasn’t public knowledge that he and Andrei knew each other—or that they lived together. They had intentionally kept it that way to avoid unnecessary speculation and media attention.

  “He certainly is generous,” Christin said casually, pretending not to know more.

  “Our co-producer is Mr. Anandveer Singh,” Austin continued. “You probably know him—he’s often in the headlines. A very promising businessman.”

  Austin looked at Christin and smiled.

  “So don’t worry about the production costs. Just focus on giving your best.”

  Feeling more relaxed—but deeply tired—Christin decided to check the bathroom.

  He opened the door and let out a quiet breath. More importantly, he tested the lock and felt relieved when it worked properly. Not that he doubted it, but the action grounded him. This was a private bathroom, not a public one—and that distinction mattered more than he liked to admit.

  Next, he moved to the large closet and opened it. Both his luggage and Austin’s had been placed inside rather randomly. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he realized it was almost lunchtime.

  He pulled out his suitcase and looked around for Austin. After a few steps, he found him preparing a cup of coffee. Austin noticed Christin watching.

  “Would you like one?” he asked.

  “No, I’m fine,” Christin replied politely. “When are you unpacking your things, Austin?”

  “Right after my coffee,” Austin answered.

  “I’m unpacking now,” Christin said. “Could you tell me which side of the closet I should use? And… I also want to discuss something about the beds.”

  Austin glanced at the coffee machine, then nodded. “Okay, I’m coming.”

  He joined Christin near the beds.

  “Honestly, it doesn’t matter which side of the closet you take—you can choose either,” he said. Then he turned toward the beds. “What’s on your mind?”

  “I was thinking of taking the bed closer to the door,” Christin explained, “but the study desk is next to the one by the window.”

  Austin thought for a moment.

  “How about this,” he suggested. “We take that desk out and place it next to yours, move that bed close to the wall, and shift your bed slightly farther away. That would widen the space between them. You’d have more room for the desk, and the bedside tables can stay in between.”

  Christin studied the beds, trying to picture it.

  The idea of more space between them eased something in his chest. Still, the thought of spending the night in the same room with someone he barely knew, made him uneasy.

  And yet—he noticed something else.

  He wasn’t trembling.

  “All right,” Austin said, heading back to the machine. “Anything else?”

  “Nothing for now,” Christin replied quietly. “Thanks.”

  Austin sat down with his mug, sipping slowly while occasionally glancing at Christin—careful not to make it obvious.

  Christin began organizing his clothes. He checked his medication and noted the time; he would need to take a pill after lunch.

  He glanced back at Austin, who was nearly finished with his coffee.

  “What are we doing for lunch?” Christin asked.

  “We can go to the dining hall or have room service,” Austin replied, mildly amused as he watched Christin pacing and organizing everything with quiet focus.

  Christin considered it for a moment.

  “I think I’ve had enough public exposure for today,” he said. “I’d prefer room service. What about you?”

  “I don’t mind,” Austin said. “I still need to unpack too. This will save us time.”

  Austin quickly called room service, and they chose their meals.

  When the food arrived, Austin opened the door and explained that he would take the tray inside himself.

  The staff member looked visibly disappointed—not getting to see The Russian Paradox up close—but brightened immediately upon recognizing Austin Ivanov, the handsome villain from a recent hit film. He asked for an autograph.

  They initially planned to eat at the dining table, but Christin hesitated.

  “I think I’ll eat at the desk,” Christin said quietly.

  Austin was slightly disappointed but masked it quickly. He understood—at least intellectually—even though part of him wished they could share the meal together.