Chapter 9

  Beep. Beep.

  The alarm went off.

  Christin, who had barely slept, woke instantly and to his surprise, Austin stirred as well.

  Christin froze.

  Austin shifted, half-asleep. He glanced around, squinting at the clock. It was only six in the morning. He groaned softly, buried his face back into the pillow, then reached for his phone, set an alarm for eight and went back to sleep.

  Christin stayed still for a while, waiting to see if Austin would wake up again.

  That was scary, he thought.

  He gathered his courage and slipped out of bed. After washing up, he grabbed his phone and hurried to the balcony and sat in one of the chairs.

  He had received some messages—

  Aunt Polina: All the best, my son. You are strong.

  Andrei: How is it going so far?

  Sofiya: Don’t forget your medicines.

  Andrei: Uncle’s letter arrived.

  That last message had just come in.

  Christin called Andrei, and the call was picked up almost instantly.

  “How’s it going? You okay?” Andrei asked immediately. “How was sharing a room with Mr. Ivanov?”

  He sounded worried.

  “It… was okay,” Christin replied. “Maybe because I’ve talked to him a few times before. But standing close to him is still difficult. We have a meeting today. I am worried…”

  “I’ll be there too,” Andrei said gently. “Don’t worry. Just enter the hall and sit right next to me.”

  “But what will others think?” Christin hesitated.

  “We will tell them that we are friends,” Andrei replied calmly.

  “I don’t want to be in the limelight because of you…,” Christin was still uneasy.

  “I’ll take care of everything,” Andrei assured him. “You focus on the movie—and on your recovery. Also…,” he added, softening his tone, “I’ll bring the letter with me.”

  That gave Christin something to look forward to.

  While Christin was still on the phone, Austin woke up. He noticed the empty bed and sat up, scanning the room. Then he glanced toward the balcony.

  Christin was there, phone pressed to his ear, talking comfortably.

  After the call ended, Christin stepped back inside, surprised to see Austin awake and making coffee. Austin offered him a cup; Christin refused politely.

  Though Christin still kept his distance, there was no trembling this time.

  They got ready, had breakfast, and headed down to the conference hall, following the same strategy as before—with Christin leading the way.

  The moment they entered, every head turned.

  The Russian Paradox lived up to his name. And walking just behind him was Austin—the handsome blond villain. Together, they were an arresting sight, and murmurs rippled through the room.

  Christin noticed none of it.

  His eyes scanned the hall, searching for only one person.

  “Andrei!” Christin called out when he finally saw him, hurrying over and skilfully avoiding everyone else.

  Andrei was on the phone, but the moment he heard his nickname, he ended the call and turned around.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Christin wrapped him in a tight hug.

  The room went silent.

  Questions hung in the air—unspoken but loud. Austin felt them too. As co-producer, he was meant to formally introduce himself to Anandveer, instead, he watched in disbelief.

  Hadn’t Christin said he was an only child?

  Austin walked towards them slowly.

  Andrei guided Christin into the seat beside him. Austin took the seat on Christin’s other side. Christin subtly pulled his chair even closer to Andrei.

  Austin observed him carefully. No trembling. No stuttering.

  Andrei… he thought. What is their relationship?

  Alik sitting next to Andrei, stood and addressed the room.

  “Good morning, everyone,” Alik began. “I hope you all rested well. I’m very happy to see the whole team today.”

  He gestured broadly.

  “First, I’d like to introduce our two producers. Mr. Austin Ivanov—also one of our protagonists and a very promising young actor—and Mr. Anandveer Singh, a young business tycoon.”

  “Mr. Ivanov,” Alik said, handing him the microphone, “would you like to say a few words?”

  “Good morning,” Austin began. “It’s an honour to work with such exceptional actors and with Mr. Alik Popov himself. I still have much to learn, and I hope I can deliver what this project demands.”

  Applause filled the hall.

  “Thank you, Mr. Ivanov,” Alik said.

  “And now,” Alik continued, “Mr. Anandveer Singh!”

  Andrei stood.

  “Thank you, everyone,” he said evenly. “This is my first investment in the entertainment industry, and I believe in the calibre of talent gathered here.”

  He glanced at Christin.

  “Christin and I, are childhood friends, but he can also be annoying at times like a younger brother,” he added lightly, drawing a few chuckles.

  His tone sharpened slightly.

  “You’re all aware of his condition. This project may take longer than usual. I’ll personally cover any additional costs or losses that arise.”

  A pause.

  “But,” Andrei continued, turning to Alik, “We will still need a firm deadline, Mr. Popov.”

  He turned back, “I hope you will all show me that my expectations were correct.”

  He then took his seat.

  Soon, the discussion began. Andrei remained silent, absorbing the information. He noticed that Christin was slightly overwhelmed, yet composed enough to answer any questions directed at him.

  Throughout the discussion, Andrei’s phone kept vibrating with notifications. His evening meeting had been moved earlier, and another one had been scheduled immediately after. His expression darkened. He wanted to stay with Christin, but his work demanded his attention.

  He leaned closer. “Will you be alright? I have two meetings to prepare for after this, and they can’t be delayed. I might need to leave.”

  Christin’s expression fell. “Do you really have to?” he whispered.

  “I’m sorry,” Andrei replied softly. “I’ll try to cut them short and come back right after… If anything goes wrong, call me.”

  Christin forced a small smile and nodded.

  Andrei stood up. “My apologies, everyone. I have another urgent matter to attend. I’ll get a briefing later from Mr. Popov and Mr. Ivanov.”

  He handed his business card to Austin. “Thank you for cooperating with Christin.”

  With a professional smile, he turned to leave. Before exiting, he glanced back at Christin and mouthed, I’ll be back, giving a small wave.

  Christin watched him go, and the room suddenly felt enormous.

  Christin was now left alone in a hall full of strangers. His bodyguards stood stationed near the entrance.

  “How about a workshop at three today?” Alik proposed. “I want to assess how much work is required before filming begins. This will help us decide how to proceed.”

  A staff member distributed booklets to the actors.

  “As you can see,” Alik continued, “these contain scenes where your individual characters shine the most—introductions, background details, and selected dialogues for rehearsal.”

  He checked his watch. “It’s 11:15 now. Four hours should be enough to prepare a ten-to-fifteen-minute performance. This will be your first workshop task.”

  Turning to Christin, whose discomfort was visible despite his composure, Alik softened his tone. “For you, my dear, just focus on your lines. Nothing else. Practice with Mr. Ivanov and show me your best.”

  He then looked at Austin. “Mr. Ivanov, I’d like to see emotional expression today. I trust you—you’ll do fine.”

  With that, the meeting ended. People gradually left the hall. A few attempted to approach Christin, but his bodyguards intervened.

  Austin and Christin were among the last to leave.

  Back in the room, Austin changed his clothes before calling out, “You might want to change too. Everyone will be in casual clothes for workshops.”

  Sitting on his bed with the script in hand, he asked casually, “So… you’re friends with Mr. Singh?”

  “Yes,” Christin replied. His chest felt tight. He wanted somewhere—anywhere—to escape.

  “You grew up together?” Austin continued, pretending to skim the script.

  “Yes,” Christin answered again—but this time his voice broke. His eyes filled with tears.

  Austin immediately looked up. Christin was standing now, tears rolling down his face.

  “Christin, are you okay? What’s wrong?”

  “No… no,” Christin whispered, shaking his head. “I’m not okay.”

  He stumbled toward the dining table, desperately searching for the jug of water. He poured himself a glass of cold water, his hands shaking, and then he headed straight to the washroom, locking the door behind him.

  Austin followed and stopped outside. He could hear muffled sobs through the door.

  “Christin,” he said softly, resting his palm against the door. “Talk to me. If something’s wrong, we can figure it out together.”

  “Just… give me a moment,” Christin sounded weak, “I’ll pull myself together.”

  Twenty minutes passed before the door finally opened.

  Christin stepped out, eyes red, his face pale. He drank another glass of water and took a slow breath.

  “Sorry,” he said quietly. “How long before the workshop?”

  “Three hours,” Austin replied, watching him carefully. For the first time since meeting him, Austin felt utterly helpless.

  They returned to their scripts.

  Maybe he just needed to let it out, Austin thought.