Chapter 4

"Office hours for employees with work-related matters are Tuesday and Thursday, from ten to noon, and today is Wednesday," I recited crisply and professionally. "I've been repeating that to you for three days now, Prigozheva. You can make an appointment with me at reception, but I can't promise I'll be able to fit you into the schedule anytime in the next few weeks. Andrey Igorevich is extremely busy! And if you haven't noticed that, I'm telling you as his secretary!"

But my rival wasn't so easily beaten, and she had no intention of giving in either.

"And why do I get the feeling that, as his secretary, you're overstepping your bounds, Rooster? What about personal matters? Haven't you thought of that?"

"That's your problem, Comrade Analyst. Mr. Voronov's personal affairs are none of your business or mine! Especially during work hours!"

"Of course!" little Nelly snorted. "I can see how little they concern you! Poor thing, you tried so hard to please the boss and pick up his documents that you worked up a sweat! Why don't you just stay quietly under the desk, where you belong!"

"What?!"

"You heard me! First you wrapped yourself around the old man, and now you've sunk your claws into his grandson, too, huh? Afraid you'll lose your hold? You think no one at the company knows what you are? A kept woman and a shameless flirt!"

"Nelly, I must insist! Keep your opinions to yourself!" Voronov tried to intervene, but when two girls are at each other's throats, the stronger sex is better off getting out of the way and keeping his head down.

"How dare you?!" I gasped, genuinely offended on behalf of my honor. Never before had anyone thrown such an undeserved accusation in my face so openly. "Look at yourself—you shameless vixen!"

"If I dare, it's with Andrey's approval, mind you!" the Man-Eater snarled back. "Our business is none of yours! You're nothing but the help here, so get lost! Move along, girl!"

"Hey! Which one of us is support staff, exactly? You were wiping down the desk with your skirt in here! And you were told point-blank that you were late! She wants coffee. No coffee for you, got it?!" I said, flashing the brunette a rude gesture.

"Redheaded witch!"

"At least I'm not dyed, like some people! And I haven't had any work done!"

"Nelly, Daria, have you both lost your minds?! Stop it right now!"

Yeah, right! I'd been teased about my hair color so many times as a kid that I'd developed a real knack for verbal ping-pong. I was only getting started! You could say I'd barely opened my mouth…

Look at her, trying to order me around!

But Prigozheva wouldn't be a fox if she couldn't quickly figure out which way to turn her indignant little face so she wouldn't get smacked in the nose.

"Andrey, you're just going to put up with this?!" she shrieked indignantly. "Your secretary just insulted me! Look at her—she's gone mad with jealousy and wants to manipulate you! You can't trust her! I wouldn't be surprised if she was in league with your brother! Why do you think she crawls under your desk and pleases you… Hypocrite!"

What?!

I boiled over at the lie and the accusation, and at how innocent Prigozheva made herself look in front of the man, batting her eyelashes.

I'd never been a hypocrite, and I'd always been loyal to Sezam. I didn't deserve this… How dare she say that!

If it weren't for Voronov, I swear I would've torn into her! And then no one would ever be able to say that the executive director's assistant was a brunette. I'd have torn her hair out and left her bald!

"You… liar! You're the one who's teamed up with Kupriyanov… I know everything! I know what you're pl—"

"Shut up, Roosterova! Out of my office!"

"But, Andrey Igorevich, she—"

"To reception, now! March! Nelly, sit down!"

"That's right, Andrey! It's about time you threw that insolent girl out!"

But I wasn't leaving—no way! Battle-ready Rooster had already raised her crest and was prepared to fight to the bitter end. If the furious goblin hadn't simply scooped me up like a sack of flour and carried me under his arm to reception, ignoring my resistance, I would have stayed.

He set me down, slammed the office door behind us (leaving the Man-Eater alone inside), and spun me around to face him.

"Have you lost your mind?!" he hissed fiercely right in my face, lowering his voice to a whisper, his icy eyes flashing. "Another second and you'd have blurted everything out!"

"So what?! Let her know we've figured her out! I don't understand, Andrey Igorevich. Why are you keeping quiet? Why don't you believe me?!"

"This isn't about believing you. It's about you not listening to me! I told you I'd handle everything myself! Go home, Roosterova, before you make a mess of things! Forget all that nonsense and get some sleep! I'm a man, not some little boy. I don't need you looking after me. And you'd better disappear from my sight within the next five minutes, or else…"

"Or else what?" Tears stung my eyes, and a lump rose in my throat. I hated injustice!

"Or else you'll be sitting under my desk all night!"

I stood there looking at my boss, my lips trembling…

"What else, Daria?"

"Why didn't you tell her? Tell Prigozheva."

"What was I supposed to tell her?"

"That there was nothing between us, of course!"

His eyes fixed on me, angry and intent.

"Roosterova, I can see modesty isn't going to kill you. Why should I have to tell her anything?"

"But she thought that we… that you and I… that there was something between us…"

"How interesting. Go on. I'm listening carefully."

But I faltered. It was one thing to think something—inside your head, everything always seemed as clear as day. It was another thing to say out loud what was obvious without words.

And Voronov seemed to have been waiting for me to falter. He urged me on impatiently:

"Go on, say your fantasy out loud, because I can't think of a thing. Other than the fact that you were picking up papers. That was part of your duties before, wasn't it, when you worked for my grandfather? Keeping track of documents?"

I had been red-faced from everything that had happened; now I went pale.

Suddenly I wanted to slap Voronov. Hard. Hard enough to make his ear ring. Hard enough for him to feel the same scorching shame his words had caused me.

He understood perfectly well. He just didn't care. He didn't give a damn about me.

Apparently he realized that, because he glanced at my chest, heaving with anger, then at my hand… His jaw clenched. He turned his broad shoulders toward the office and tossed over his shoulder, coldly:

"Go home, Roosterova. You're free to go."

"I am Rooster!"

He suddenly turned around and grew angry.

"If you're Rooster, then I'm Henny!" he snarled irritably. "Just go, I said! I've got a million things to do without you!"

He went into the office and slammed the door. The glass in the cabinets rattled. I remained standing there, no longer able to hold back my tears.

They ran down my cheeks, bitter and prickling, and I barely had time to blink them away before the office door opened again and Voronov came back. He pulled a handkerchief from his inside pocket—just as perfectly starched as he was—and shoved it into my hand.