tanechkas

[tanechkas]

Nothing seemed to be going right these days. Between Ronan and Alphonse, Tatiana was constantly being tugged in two different directions, and as far as the former went...aside from his regular duties as her bodyguard, he hardly ever spoke to her, and she certainly hadn’t crawled into his bed in the middle of the night at all in the weeks following the new year’s eve fiasco. It was why she had sought out Kazia, if she was being honest - Tatiana didn’t need help with her closets at all; they were impeccably organized in her apartment that was far too big, already unpacked and presentable, but she wanted to ask the person who knew Ronan most if he was okay...and whether or not he hated her. 

Still, Kazia made her incredibly nervous, and she could tell that the older girl was irritated by the excuse she had made up to request a bit of alone time together. Tatiana stood awkwardly in the hallway outside of the smaller apartment that the Ludolfs were sharing, wringing her tiny hands together and biting worriedly at her lower lip as she tried to persuade Kazia further. “Oh, ah - maybe not needing help with closets, then, but what about...kitchen storage? Where being need put pots and pans and things? They are much heavy to lifting.” They were also already neatly unpacked and stacked according to size and usage in her cupboards. “I - I could make you dinner to saying thank you!”

{ @tanechkas }

Of course. Of course she and Ronan had once again ended up in an apartment that was practically two feet away from the Ukrainian’s – just the next door down, but now it was hot and sticky and humid in addition to the constant sheen of ren hair that followed her brother where ever he went. Rather, it was the opposite – but all the same, she’d wanted some… semblance of space from Tatiana. Tatiana, on the other hand, seemed to want the opposite. 

“You really need help unpacking your clothes?” Kazia asked with a sigh, jet legged and not ready to start working again. “The closets are huge, you could just… throw them in.”

[tanechkas]

She tastes like nectar and salt. Nectar and salt and apples. Pollen and stars and hinges. She tastes like fairy tales. Swan maiden at midnight. Cream on the tip of a fox’s tongue. She tastes like hope.

Laini Taylor (via anachronisticfairytales)

[tanechkas]

rcmvncv‌:

She seemed sweet. Almost too sweet to be part of the world that got off on deception and ultimatums. He patiently waited for her to stop gabbling and used the time to wonder if he even should have started the conversation. Slowly he nodded as an acknowledgment. “I appreciate that.” It meant that he was at least doing something right — or that people thought he was doing something right, which, in a way, was enough. “I read about her,” he admitted, quite cautiously. Such topic wasn’t something you simply brought up. “What happened to her is unforgivable.” It wasn’t just fair speech, it made him ill to think the mindless violence that still thrived in Russia. The girl’s mother had been just another example. “I hope the move to the Ukraine has gone smoothly.  They can be… difficult over there.”

It all seemed so surreal to her, almost more than anything else had ever since she had been thrust into the spotlight that came with being the youngest daughter of the Ukranian president, because she just couldn’t fathom the likelihood that Alexei Romanov would have any interest in speaking to someone like her at all. This was the very same man that she had idolized and looked up to all throughout her college years and even before that, and she was fairly certain that her mother had even hung photos of him up on their wall. Oh, her...her mother. So far, all people had done was apologize for her death as if it had been some sort of tragic accident and not a grisly murder, and so - to hear the Russian czar condemn it as unforgivable was oddly cathartic, even if he couldn’t have known the truth behind her mother’s assassination. “Thank you, your highness,” she said quietly, with a slight incline of her head that had her glimmering auburn hair falling into her face, and she tucked it quickly behind her ears with both hands, like a dainty bird smoothing out its ruffled feathers. “It is not my home, that much is for certain. It is not Russia,” she continued with a small smile, thinking of Lazarevo and Lake Ilmen, of summers spent cartwheeling and cherry-picking without a care in the world. “And...it is not the best place to be. Ukraine, I mean. There is - a lot that I do not agree with. I hope you know that my father’s actions do not at all represent my own thoughts.” 

[tanechkas]

[tanechkas]

[tanechkas]

Tatiana knew exactly who the big, burly man sitting across from her was, of course, and to say that she had inwardly freaked out the moment he approached her table in the hotel library was a massive, massive understatement. It felt like it had been ages ago that she had first started seeing Alexei Romanov’s roughly-distinguished face splashed across Russia’s social media scene; he was their czar, and Tatiana had always, always been grateful for him and his family for everything they had done for her precious homeland. The fact that he was sitting so close to her now - and addressing her by name! - was enough to have her on the verge of either hyperventilating or standing up just so that she could bow in front of him, or...both, at the exact same time, which wouldn’t have been a pretty sight at all. Instead, she was able to lift her auburn head from the book that she was reading - more Nabokov - and she nodded hesitantly as she flitted her viridian green gaze upwards to meet his much surlier one. He was even bigger and more intimidating in real life than he had seemed on television. “Da, da - Tatiana Valentina!” she said breathlessly, almost reverently; dear God, she needed to work on not sounding crazy and half as...hero worship-y as she did. “Is being...is such...” She cleared her throat and shook her head gingerly as her cheeks flushed with rosy heat; now probably wasn’t the best time for her pitiful English skills that had only improved marginally since arriving in Oslo. Instead, she switched to Russian. “It is an honor to meet you, your grace. I...my mother always wanted to meet you and your family to thank them for everything that you’ve done.”

( **  @tanechkas )

He had to admit, he wasn’t very good with names or faces or nationalities — there was simply too many people and they kept changing at a fast pace, which made it nearly impossible for him to keep track of who was the leader of which country and whether they were possibly a friend or a foe. But certain faces stuck in his mind. The Ukrainian redhead was one of them: not only did she have quite the story to tell, and with the bright fiery hair, she wasn’t someone you just forgot. His eyes studied her for a moment as she sat at the same table, few seats away from him. “Good morning.” His voice was a bit rough from waking up but he did his best to sound casual. It was a casual greeting. “Miss Valentina, right?”

[tanechkas]

[tanechkas]

xsofiya‌:

Ah, a quiet day at last. No stupid parties, no nosy New Zealand kings, no sister, and for once no work either. Just Sofia and the small stack of books she’d been meaning to get through for half a year. First up, The Neuroscientist Who Lost Her Mind by Barbara Lipska. She’d read the first chapter in a bookstore and bought it immediately… and then promptly had to abandon it when the news about Tatiana broke. Now she could finally finish it. Clad in her coziest sweater and leggings, with a large mug of freshly brewed coffee on the table in front of her, Sofia settled back into the sofa of her suite and opened the book, a soft smile gracing her face for the first time in weeks.

She’d only read two full pages before a knock at the door interrupted her good mood. The smile faltered, shrinking a bit as she looked up at the door, brows furrowed. Really? Whoever it was had atrocious timing. Then a soft voice snuck under the doorjamb, and the remainder of her smile froze in place on instinct. Tatiana. She thought they’d had an understanding, an unspoken agreement to stay out of each other’s ways. She mentally pressed pause on that train of thought; it would only serve to make her more irritated than was warranted. She hasn’t done anything to you, she chided herself as she slid a bookmark in place and closed the book. But her heart still thudded a little louder with anger at the mere thought of Tatia. Sofia took a slow, deep breath in through her nose and let it out through her mouth before standing up. “Coming!” she replied, the Russian flitting off her tongue with ease. She crossed the room, sock-covered feet making barely a sound on the carpet, and opened the door to see Tatia before her holding a box. “Tatiana, this is… unexpected. Come in!” Manners kicked in to override the nasty thoughts tugging at the back of her mind.

Tatiana had no idea if Sofia would be home, or if she had other post-new-year’s plans that would take her elsewhere, but as naive as it was for her to hold so much faith in the older sister she hardly even knew, she was incredibly hopeful that today would give them the chance to properly share a bit of conversation with one another. Sofia intimidated Tatiana a great deal, and her very presence made her break out into a cold sweat, but - that wasn’t the graceful brunette’s fault at all, and as nervous as she might have been around Sofia, she also admired her a great deal as well. Sofia wasn’t just the first daughter of the Ukranian president - she was an activist, an artist, and a woman who wasn’t at all afraid to stand up for those who couldn’t fend for themselves. She was nothing short of awe-inspiring, if Tatiana was being honest, and now that she was given access to all of the same riches and privileges that Sofia had grown up with, the younger girl wanted very badly to give back to the world as much as she possibly could...including Russia.

She was relieved to hear that Sofia was indeed inside of her suite, and even more so when she realized that the elder girl was matching her by speaking in Russian. Her English had gotten a bit better since arriving at The Thief, but it was nothing compared to the sophisticated way that Sofia articulated herself. “I tried to call up to your room, but reception kept telling me that I wasn’t able to connect to it, so I thought I would just...drop by. I hope that’s okay,” she said with a harried, tentative smile as Sofia opened the door and ushered her inside, and she did so with a grateful, nervous little nod, stepping into her older sister’s suite for the first time and taking a curious look around. She just hoped she wasn’t interrupting her too much; goodness only knew how busy she must have been. “Oh, erm - for you! For Christmas and new year’s, because we didn’t get to see each other,” she continued breathlessly, and she very shyly offered the twine-tied box in her dainty hands to Sofia instead, hoping that she would find the eight-layer honey cake inside of it at least somewhat pleasing. It was her mother’s recipe - a sweet treat that Tatiana had asked for every year on her birthday. “I wasn’t sure what to get you, or what sort of things that you like, but I figured that everyone likes food, or - at least I do!”

[tanechkas]

@mirokos

She had been staying at The Thief for almost two months now, and so there really wasn’t any reason for Tatiana to continue getting lost as frequently as she seemed to manage it. However...with her bodyguard nowhere to be found, the hotel’s vast and seemingly never-ending corridors were far more confusing than ever before, and the young heiress couldn’t seem to find her way around them for the life of her. Now, for instance, she was already late for yet another one of the history lessons that her father was so insistent on her taking so that she could be brought up on the actual recant of Ukraine’s past one-hundred years, and as un-excited as she was to attend it in the first place, she hadn’t meant to get lost. Again.

She rounded another corner, then, and was relieved to finally run into someone - almost quite literally until she was able to draw herself up short. He was tall and toned, with touseled dark hair and eyes that managed to seem both cheeky and mischevious all at once, and Tatiana offered him a harried little smile, looking up at him anxiously as she fretted nervously in front of herself with her dainty hands. “I - erm - sorry to bothering you,” she began tentatively in her stalling, uncertain English, already hoping profusely that she wasn’t making a fool out of herself in front of a complete stranger. Her older sister would have a field day if Tatiana somehow found it in her to embarrass herself on Ukraine’s behalf. “Would you happen to being know where - library is? I am little bit lost, and supposing meet tutor - “ She paused with a small frown, lifting her tiny wrist up to her face and stifling a frustrated noise as she realized the time on her watch. “ - twenty-five minutes ago. You know where go, maybe?”

[tanechkas]

alphonsenw‌:

The morning after the party, Alphonse found himself in a sorry state. While his body was desperate to recover from his indulgences from the night before, the sun had other plans in mind, waking the prince several weeks earlier than he would have liked. He was still in his clothes from the night before, having collapsed into bed the moment he manged to get back to the hotel. The faint smell of booze, cigarettes and sex clung onto him as a faint reminder of his escapades. He brought a finger up to his cheek, and when he pulled it away, he could still see the smeared lipstick of his latest fling.

Happy new year indeed.

He rolled over onto his back, wondering if it was worth the effort of trying to get out of his clothes and go to sleep for the rest of the morning and afternoon. But as he halfheartedly kicked off one of his shoes, his phone started to buzz. Alphonse groaned, blindly reaching for it at his nightstand. It had taken a minute for his eyes to focus on the overly-bright screen but the name immediately caught his attention. It took him more than one attempt to unlock his phone, and far longer to stumble his way to a coherent sentence.

Alphonse: working on it. night ran late.

Alphonse: you had me at breakfast! I’ll be there in 15-ish

With great reluctance, Alphonse abandoned his bed and made a beeline to the shower. He peeled off the ruined suit and kicked it into the corner of the bathroom for later, turning the shower knob to the hottest he could stand. Tatiana had seen him at his worst plenty of times before, but he still had some level of standards. The hot water wouldn’t rid him of the scratches or bruises, but he could at least make it down a few floors without smelling like a back alley in Amsterdam. As soon as he resembled something human, he hopped out of the shower, rummaging for the most comfortable clothing he could find. Settling for an old band shirt and track pants, he quickly got dressed and headed out the door.

It took less time to find his way to Tatiana’s room, having gained some familiarity with the layout of the hotel after weeks of getting lost in it.  Alphonse knocked softly on the door, running a hand through his still-damp hair. “Tatia? I hope that breakfast offer still stands. I could honestly eat a horse right now. Or bacon. Bacon would work.“

New year’s eve had turned into little more than an actual disaster, and for Tatiana, that had nothing to do with the fight that had supposedly broken out right after midnight. No - she hadn’t been present for that at all; instead, she had been off in an abandoned parlor room with her bodyguard, and to say that things had spun wildly out of control between them was the understatement of the century. One moment, she and Ronan had been kissing frantically and tugging at each other’s clothes, and the next - a drunk, gossiping couple was walking in on them, and Tatiana was so startled and anxious that the only thing she could think to do was flee. Now, it was the morning after, and the young heiress hadn’t heard from her bodyguard at all - nor had she attempted to seek him out on her own. She was embarrassed beyond belief, and incredibly confused, and so...what she needed most right now was to spend time with Alphonse. Ever since she had entered his life again, they hadn’t discussed any of what had happened between them before her mother’s death - the sweet and knowing way he had made love to her and ravished her body more times than she could readily count most especially - and because of what happened with Ronan, and because of Al’s pending engagement...Tatiana couldn’t help but feel as if they had finally waited long enough to get things out in the open for once and for all. 

Tatiana was freshly-showered, her waist-length auburn hair damp and curling down the length of her back and the comfy, oversized shirt she had stolen from Ronan at some point, and by the time a knock on her bedroom door was confirming Al’s arrival, she felt her unsteady heart skip an entire beat in response to the sound of his voice. It was impossible for her not to have feelings for him - deep, yearning feelings that she had tried her best to stow away - and she wondered if she had made a mistake inviting him into her bedroom when Ronan was nowhere to be found. Still, she needed to see him, and so the moment she opened the door and was greeted with the sight of him in all of his...rather disheveled-seeming glory, Tatiana was rushing forward and tossing herself into his arms. Her long, bare legs wrapped snugly around his trim waist, and she squirmed up against him eagerly as her slender little arms followed suit and slid up and around his neck. She needed to understand what was happening between them and how it compared to the dangerous, uncertain things that she felt for her bodyguard; she needed to somehow find a way to separate the two men in her mind and figure out her feelings for them both. It broke her heart to be away from Ronan like this, just...just as it had broken her heart to be without Alphonse for as long as she had. For goodness sake - what did this all mean?

Unaware that she could have been aggravating any of the scratches and bruises that might have been lingering underneath his shirt from the night before, Tatiana kept herself pressed flush up against Alphonse; her t-shirt was as thin as his was, and she could feel the heat of his body radiating off of him in heady waves. “Da, da, of course! Breakfast for us both,” she confirmed breathlessly, looking up at him as she tucked an errant curl back behind her ear. “I have already being ordered and is on way! Bacon and blini, and hot pierogi and scrambled eggs! Maybe not as good as when I made for you in tiny apartment kitchen so long ago with recipe from scratch, but still nice,”  she reassured him in earnest, and then found herself blushing rather bashfully as she realized that she was still carrying on so innocently in his arms, as if jumping into them and wrapping herself around him so intimately didn’t call for an explanation after all of the time they had spent apart. “Oh, ah - mne zhal'! For being hop on you like little bit baby goat. I just - um - happy to seeing you, is all. Did you have nice new year’s eve?”

[tanechkas]

[tanechkas]

[tanechkas]

ronanvludolf‌:

If it was possible, Ronan would gladly drown out the rest of the world if it meant he could spend solitude by Tatiana’s side. There was no one in the world who calmed him down the way she did; as if she took all of his stress and concerns and painstakingly pulled them free of his body and spirit. It was strange, realizing that his happiness relied so heavily on another person, and it left Ronan feeling unsettled more often than not. He wasn’t used to being tied down anywhere, but had told himself that he could grow accustomed to the idea of it for the sake of his sister. But this? Feeling like he was ready to jump out of his skin at any moment? Recognizing that his happiness was hinged on another person’s? It was a pill he didn’t know if he was ready to swallow or not.

He followed Tatiana into the darkened parlor room in the palace, wondering just how she had come across it in the first place. It didn’t appear to be in use, and Ronan checked to make sure that they were, indeed, alone and not about to be assaulted by a lurking assassin before turning and approaching Tatiana once more. He felt his heart thud painfully in his chest when she explained that he was the most important person to her this evening–was it because she had a tendency to seek him out for comfort and the crowd of an event with so many unfamiliar faces had her on edge? Or was it something else? Was it this strange, living thing pulsating between them, unspoken but lurking in the dark recesses of their relationship with each other.

“Why did you want privacy tonight, Tanechka? Tell me–with your heart, your mouth, your body.” Ronan asked quietly, stepping towards her until the heat of her body nearly overwhelmed him. He wanted to hear her say it; he wanted to savor the manifestation of the tension that had been brewing between them ever since they’d laid eyes on each other. He lifted a hand to brush back one of her red curls, his fingers marveling at the sensation of the soft strands of hair against his skin. Everything about her was delicate, like a fine-boned bird. “And if I say I always want to be near you? What then, my little Russian doll?”

Tatiana couldn’t accurately explain why it was, exactly, that she wanted to be alone with Ronan tonight, and for once her lack of articulation had more to do with just her pitiful English-speaking skills. All she knew was that the ballroom was too crowded for her liking, and she was so warm and flushed in the pale-gold cocktail dress she had chosen to wear, and - as close as she was to her bodyguard at the moment, it wasn’t enough. She had only ever felt this way with Alphonse before, the sheer and indescribable need to offer herself wholly to someone with every last fiber of her mind, body, and soul, but she had never experienced it quite as strongly as she was right now. By the time they had made their way into the empty parlor room, Tatiana was trembling from the tips of her dainty feet to the top of her auburn-red head, and when Ronan stepped towards her and spoke in a voice that was quiet and gentle only for her, she could do little more than look up at him with wide and nervous green eyes. He was - entirely too much for her. 

One of his hands, effortlessly bigger than her small, heart-shaped face, came up to brush one of her silken crimson curls back into her braided updo, and Tatiana couldn’t help the tiny tremor that worked its way through her sensitive little frame in response. She had been touched before by a boy, of course - just the one - but with Alphonse, there had been enough familiarity and comfort that it had been almost easy to lose herself in him. Ronan was - he was more than ten years her senior, and there was a deep, inky darkness in his eyes that spoke of things she couldn’t even begin to fathom. He was a man, and an experienced one at that, and she was - what was she, exactly? His charge? The girl that he was sworn to protect at all costs, and one that he most certainly shouldn’t have been propositioning while on her father’s payroll?

“Nyet - I cannot - “ Every part of her was alight; underneath the silk of her dress, she could feel heat spreading up from her stomach and throughout the rest of her body, rosy warmth blossoming all the way from the tops of her pert breasts to the already-flushed apples of her cheeks. She let out a shaky breath as she looked up at Ronan, then, her pouty bottom lip caught hesitantly between her teeth, and she stepped closer to him still, finally severing the last few inches of space that had been left between them. Tentatively, her small hands came up to rub his chest, slowly and uncertainly, until they were up on his broad shoulders instead. Even through her sheer strapless bra that was a bit of lace and nothing else, as well as the satin of her dress, she could feel her perked nipples rubbing lightly against his muscular chest. “Is so hard for me to say, Shura,” she said softly, in a quivering rush, the fluttering of her pulse like that of a frightened bunny rabbit’s as it throbbed at the delicate hollow of her throat. “I - show you instead? Da?” And with that, because she wasn’t able to find the words at all, she was standing up on the tips of her toes, and..very hesitantly, very shyly, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. 

[tanechkas]

@alphonsenw

By the time the new year had been properly rung in, both Alphonse and Tatiana were nowhere to be found, and she was especially anxious to seek him out the next day because of it. Her own evening had taken...an incredibly startling turn, and she wanted to meet up with Alphonse to make sure that everything had gone alright with his; as much as she adored him, her childhood-friend-turned-lover had a knack for attracting trouble even when he wasn’t purposely seeking it out, and she was never able to stop herself from worrying about him. That, and...everything that had happened between her and Ronan in the abandoned parlor room they had claimed as their own had left her feeling more than a little confused, and even guilty. What was it that was going on, exactly, between herself and Alphonse? He was engaged, and she had no claim over him whatsover, and so why did it feel as if a part of her heart would always belong to him?

So, as she sat in her plush four poster bed in one of the oversized shirts that she had stolen from her bodyguard at some point in the past, she took out her cellphone, and after a moment spent worrying her rosy bottom lip between her teeth and debating over what it was that she was going to say, she sent Alphonse a couple of text messages.

Tatiana: da, da, are you awake yet? 

Tatiana: if so...breakfast in bed?

[tanechkas]

@xsofiya

She hadn’t seen her older sister for almost a month now, ever since they had run into one another at the Christmas party before Sofia had...promptly disappeared after promising to be gone for only a moment, and as much as she didn’t want to bother Ukraine’s first daughter, Tatiana couldn’t deny that she was anxious to seek her out nevertheless. She was her sister, after all, and as guilty as Tatiana felt about her very existence in Sofia’s life, she had very little family left, and she wanted to try her hardest to get to know the older brunette. All she had learned so far had been from the media - she knew that Sofia was an incredible humanitarian, famed for her acts of activism and the way that she projected her thoughts with such sophisticated eloquence, but aside from that, she didn’t know much about the graceful political figure at all. 

So...here she was now, standing rather pitifully outside of her sister’s door with an eight-layer Russian honey cake that she had made entirely from scratch tied with twine in a simple box held in her hands. It was Alphonse’s words that rang clearly in her mind even as her nervousness threatened to overwhelm her; he didn’t need to be with her to provide her with bravery, and it was Ronan’s description of Sofia as a hot-but-bitchy Cate Blanchett that had the young redhead feeling a little more light-hearted as well. She carried both of them with her right now, in her heart and in her mind. “Sofiyaka?” She spoke in her native Russian tongue instinctively; the absolute last thing that she wanted was to irritate her older sister with her atrocious English. “Are you in?” 

[tanechkas]

@kazialudolf

Okay, Jenna, repeat after me.

[tanechkas]

ronanvludolf‌:

There were a few people in the world who didn’t irritate Ronan past the point of comprehension; his list of people he held tolerance and care for was exceedingly small. Namely, he was beginning to realize, the circle of people he would be willing to sacrifice for had dwindled down to two: his younger sister, Kazia, whom Ronan would fight his way through Hell’s molten lava for, and Tatiana Valentina. Though his charge could likely take care of herself, Ronan felt a responsibility over her; his urges and desires to protect her were rivaled only by that of familial loyalty. It was a strangely passionate mixture of emotions, one Ronan tried to rationalize through humor and sarcasm.

“No offense, Tanechka, but your older sister is kind of a bitch,” Ronan admitted as he pulled away from her slightly, turning away from the appetizer table entirely to face her. “Kind of like a hot young Cate Blanchett, all haughty regal nonsense, but she is also absolutely, one hundred percent a stiff bitch.” He had no personal issues with Sofia, per se, but he resented the president’s daughter for her cold treatment towards Tatiana. After all, it wasn’t Tatiana’s fault that their father was a horny bastard. His brows arched slightly when she was suggesting they go somewhere quieter; he tried to ignore the way his pulse raced at the thought of having her alone, entirely to himself, but tried to rationalize that she meant in a platonic way. Tatiana viewed him as one would a guardian–that was all. Still, the way his blood thrummed so close to hers…he wanted to ask more of her, but merely lowered his face to hers and murmured–

“There’s no shortage of rooms in this palace we can raid and have all to ourselves. Just lead the way, myshka, and I will follow. After all, that’s what I’m here for, isn’t it?”

There was so much going on in her life right now that Tatiana could hardly keep her head on straight. Between her newfound status as the Ukraine president’s second daughter that had quickly followed the death of her mother, her sudden reunion with Alphonse, and her incredibly complicated feelings for her much-older bodyguard...the young Russian-born girl was nothing short of confused, and she felt as if she was doing absolutely nothing right. She was so different from Sofia - her older sister was perfect, composed and put together in all that she did, and in comparison, Tatiana was just barely managing to stumble clumsily along in her shadow. There was no denying what she felt for Ronan, though; it wasn’t just that he made her feel safe and protected...no, there was something more to it as well. Something to do with the way she felt herself grow warm from head to toe whenever he stroked her hair to calm her down in the middle of the night; something to do with how good it felt to let him hold her securely in his big strong arms. It was - similar to what she shared with Alphonse, and yet...somehow even more. 

“I - Shura!” Tatiana couldn’t help but let out a startled little gasp when Ronan made no attempt to hide his true feelings about her older sister, and her cheeks flushed a brilliant shade of pink as the realization that her bodyguard considered Sofia to be attractive (among other things that weren’t quite as complimentary) made itself at home in her young mind. She didn’t...know if Ronan felt the same way about her as she did for him. She didn’t know if he understood that each and every time she crawled into his bed in the middle of the night, she was just barely resisting the urge to strip bare from head to toe and offer herself to him in all of her soft, warm, and nubile glory. Still...he was agreeing to go somewhere private with her, and Tatiana felt herself flush with relief; all she wanted was a moment alone with her big man. “Da! I - I am having little bit of idea of where we can being go. Follow Tatia, okay?” Gingerly, she took hold of one of his rough and calloused hands, and she very tentatively began to lead him away from the ballroom and towards the grand french doors that opened up into the corridor.

There was a parlor room that she had stumbled upon during her first week at the hotel during one of the numerous afternoons that she had gotten lost within the sprawling estate, and with her brows furrowed together delicately in concentration, she was able to seek it out again for her and Ronan. There was an ornate glass coffee table in the center of the small room, surrounded by several cushy-looking armchairs and a plush chaise lounge, and once she had properly shut the door behind them, she looked up at Ronan sheepishly, very self-consciously tucking a stray strand of silken auburn back into her braided updo. “This is - okay? More privacy?” she asked softly, hopefully, seeking his approval as always. “You are...most important person to me tonight, Shura. The one I am wanting to be with more than anyone else.”