The news of our "engagement" spreads through the office like wildfire, and I find myself the center of a whirlwind of whispers and curious glances. I navigate the day with a mix of confusion and determination, focusing on my tasks while trying to make sense of the unexpected turn of events.
Later that evening, as the office begins to empty, Mr. Ivanov summons me to his office. I knock softly, my heart pounding in my chest, and enter at his command.
"Ms. Moore, please have a seat," he says, his voice calm and collected, as if the day's events were nothing out of the ordinary.
I sit down, my back straight and my hands folded neatly in my lap, trying to project an air of composure I don't quite feel.
"Firstly, I apologize for the deception," he begins, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that makes me feel both seen and vulnerable. "My father's actions were unexpected, and I needed to buy some time to figure out a solution."
I nod, understanding his predicament. "Of course, Mr. Ivanov. I'm here to assist in any way I can."
He leans back in his chair, his fingers steepled in front of him. "I need you to continue this charade for the time being. It will give me the space to negotiate with my father and find a way out of this arranged marriage without causing a rift in the family or the business."
I take a deep breath, considering the implications. "I understand. But what about our colleagues? Won't they find it strange if we suddenly start acting like a couple?"
A hint of a smile plays on his lips, and for a moment, I'm captivated by the transformation of his stern features. "We'll need to be convincing. I'll handle the logistics, and I'll make sure you're compensated for any discomfort or inconvenience this may cause."
I feel a flush of heat rise to my cheeks at the thought of the intimacy we might need to feign. "I appreciate your consideration, Mr. Ivanov. I'll do my best to play my part."
He stands, signaling the end of our meeting. "Thank you, Ms. Moore. You've been invaluable. I'll keep you updated on any developments."
As I leave his office, I can't help but feel a mix of trepidation and excitement.
The next evening we find ourselves standing in front of what seems to be Mr Ivanov's mansion.
I couldn't help but feel a mix of awe and apprehension. The imposing facade, with its towering stone walls and intricate architecture, was a stark reminder of the power and wealth that defined the Ivanov dynasty. Ivan walked beside me, his steps measured and controlled, his expression as stoic as ever.
The heavy wooden doors swung open, revealing a vast foyer adorned with ornate tapestries and gleaming marble floors. The air was thick with the weight of tradition and expectation, and I felt a sense of unease settle in the pit of my stomach. Ivan led the way, his movements precise and controlled, as if he were navigating a battlefield.
As we entered the dining room, Mr. Ivanov was already seated at the head of the long, polished wooden table, his posture straight and commanding. The table was set with fine china and crystal, a display of wealth and refinement that was both impressive and intimidating. His eyes met ours as we entered, sharp and assessing, a silent reminder of the power dynamics at play.
"Ivan, Ms. Moore," Mr. Ivanov acknowledged us with a nod, his voice deep and authoritative.
"Please, take your seats."
Ivan and I complied, our movements precise and controlled. We took our seats to Mr. Ivanov's right, the distance between us and our host a physical manifestation of the emotional chasm that separated them. The tension in the room was palpable, a silent war of wills that had been brewing for years.
"Father," Ivan greeted him, his voice tight. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected invitation?"
"Am I not allowed to have dinner with my future daughter in law and my son?" Ivans eves darken but he does not say anything.
Mr. Ivanov leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving Ivan's face.
"I also have something important to discuss with you, but first, let us enjoy our dinner. I have taken the liberty of inviting someone who I believe will be of great interest to you."
Ivan's brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. "Who have you invited, Father?"
Before Mr. Ivanov could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed through the hallway, growing louder as they approached the dining room. The doors swung open, and in walked a young man with a bubbly demeanor and a wide, friendly smile. He was the complete opposite of Ivan in every way, his energy filling the room with a sudden burst of warmth.
"Ah, Rafael, you're finally here," Mr. Ivanov said, his voice tinged with a hint of approval. "Please, join us."
Rafael takes a seat across from Ivan, his smile never fading. "Ivan, it's been too long! I've missed you, brother." Ivan just stares at him. Maintaining his cold gaze on him he purposely ignores him.
After greeting his brother, his eyes shift to me and his face lights up like he knows me.
Rafael's eyes lock onto mine, his smile widening further – a charming dimple appears on his left cheek.
"I'm Rafael Ivanov, Ivan's younger brother.
And you are...?
I extend my hand politely,
"Everlore Moore. Nice to meet you, Rafael."
Rafael shakes my hand gently, his touch warm and friendly – the opposite of Ivan's cold demeanor.
Ivan remains silent, his eyes fixed on me briefly before returning to his father,
Viktor Ivanov. The elder Ivanov clears his throat, breaking the awkward silence.
"Shall we begin dinner? The chef has prepared an exquisite meal tonight."
The staff brings out the first course, and we begin eating – Rafael attempts to engage Ivan in conversation, but Ivan responds with only nods or brief yes/no answers. I try to fill the awkward silence, turning to Viktor Ivanov:
"So, Mr. Ivanov, what inspired this family dinner tonight?" Viktor smiles slightly,
"A celebration of sorts, Ms. Moore. Ivan's... upcoming nuptials, and a potential business merger."
Ivan's eyes narrow at his father, but says nothing.
Viktor sets his fork down, his eyes fixed intently on me –
"So, Ms. Moore, tell me... how did you and Ivan meet romantically?"
Ivan's head turns sharply towards me, his expression warning me to tread carefully with my response. I pause, taking a sip of water to buy time to think – our fake engagement backstory hadn't been discussed.
"We... uh... met through mutual friends,
and our relationship blossomed from there."
But Viktor presses further, "I see. And when did you realize you were in love with my son, Ms. Moore?"
I feel Ivan's gaze burning into me, as I struggle to maintain a neutral expression –
trapped in this fake engagement web.