Chapter 2

Fine, then! The words had already been said anyway. Of course, I'd be terribly sorry to lose the job—especially one I loved! But that was better than continuing to endure the mockery of this boor. I might be an obedient assistant, but I had some pride too, however modest! The last thing I needed was for Voronov to imagine I wanted to seduce him.

Honestly, what nonsense!

"You're not saying anything? Fine." I pulled myself together. "It's even better that you're at work. I'll write my resignation now and bring it in. You can sign it right away, so I won't be in your face anymore."

I said it proudly, turned around, and was just about to leave for reception when I heard behind me:

"I did not dismiss you, Daria!"

To be honest, surprise made me stop and look back. It was the first time the boss had called me by my first name.

"Excuse me…"

But the man continued reconciling documents and copying data from the accounting database into a new file.

"And I won't accept your resignation. My workday is already over."

"But I won't come in tomorrow!"

"Then I will have to bring you to work myself! And I am very busy. Can't you see that?"

I could. I could very much see how hard he was trying. That was why I had been helping. But I could not read minds! Was it really impossible to say something if he needed it so badly?

Voronov finally tore his gaze from the monitor and pinned me in place with it.

"Tomorrow at eleven, I am meeting with a group of investors," he continued. "An hour earlier, I have an important meeting with the development director. At 4:00 p.m., I expect all our managers in my office in the hope of learning what the hell they all do here! I am terribly tired, and I still have to sort the stack of contracts you brought by date. Since you failed to think of that yourself!"

"Then you should have asked!" I decided not to back down for once, since I was quitting anyway. "How am I supposed to know what you want? I'm used to carrying out assignments, not wishes. I can't read your mind and turn your thoughts into reality!"

"And that is a great pity, Daria! Because if you could, you and I would save a great deal of time… and effort! And we would both certainly be satisfied!"

"Oh, really? Somehow I doubt it! Especially where you and I are concerned!"

The moment I said it, I realized it sounded somehow… ambiguous, maybe. What were we even talking about?

I had to hurry over to the stack of contracts lying on the desk and start reviewing them, hiding my flushed cheeks from the boss's intent gaze.

Fine, then! I would complete this last assignment for the beloved company, and then I would write the resignation anyway! Voronov and I would never work together. He simply did not like me. Let him find someone else, male or female, to sit here with him until midnight. Someone he could jab with pins! I had children and a family!

But reality clipped my pride's wings and brought me back down to earth.

Also, I had loans and a mortgage. Ritochka needed a puffer coat for the holidays. Olya's daughter had grown; soon she would be as tall as me. Stepa was waiting for light-up armor and a modular blaster under the tree. And Sonia… Sonia still dreamed of a dog.

God, a dog was exactly what my life needed for perfect happiness!

I shrugged and sighed sadly, and my icy boss was so shocked by my outrageous insolence—standing there in front of him, sighing with my whole chest—that even his Adam's apple bobbed as I, overcome with feeling, pictured myself as an unemployed mother come tomorrow.

"R-Roosterova!" he growled, swiveling his chair toward me and preparing to stand, but then immediately turned his head toward reception, hearing someone's footsteps outside the door—the soft, measured tap of heels on the parquet.

Apparently we both guessed who they belonged to, because we froze together and exchanged a look, as if we'd been caught in the act.

"Damn it!" Voronov let out a sharp breath and glanced irritably at his watch. "You're still here!"

"Obviously! And what, exactly…"

But I did not have time to ask whether he was going to let the Man-Eater in or not. And it was undoubtedly her: Kupriyanov's treacherous lover and accomplice. Because Voronov, reaching for the laptop with the intention of closing it, accidentally swept part of the big stack of contracts I had begun reviewing onto the floor. And when they scattered around his chair and slid under the desk, he commanded calmly:

"Pick them up. Right now. I need them badly!"

He gave me that order at the exact moment a knock sounded at the office door and a melodic voice came from reception:

"Andrey Igorevich, are you alone? May I come in? It's Nelly Prigozheva. I'm here on a personal matter!"

Oh, personal, was it? What a liar! I knew all about her personal matters!

My heart started pounding wildly, and I spun quickly toward Voronov:

"No! Andrey Igorevich, don't let her in! What if she has a gun? There isn't a single soul on this floor besides us. All the security guards are downstairs. Stay where you are. I'll lock the door!"

I had almost leaped away from the desk, intending, if necessary, to shield the boss with my own body (ugh, him!), but the man's strong fingers caught me by the elbow and pulled me back into place. And an angry whisper sounded right by my ear:

"Stay put, Roosterova! Are you at it again? Pick up the papers and stop saving me, I said! Quietly!"

Just like that, he grabbed me by the shoulders and shoved me under the desk. Strong bastard! While beautiful little Nelly, flashing her dazzling smile and swaying her hips, walked across the Persian rug toward him, that blue-eyed bastard—no, unpleasant person—stepped on my skirt (pinning it to the floor with his size-eleven shoe) and even planted his hand on my neck to keep me from sticking my head out.

He curled his long fingers around the back of my head so I could not move. Let alone pick up the documents.

The nerve! Tyranny, arrogance, and despotism!

What kind of boor was he? Worse than a boor! Would Matvey Ivanovich ever have been capable of this?!

I was so stunned and outraged that I lost not only my words but my voice as well.

And I probably would have squeaked something and tried to free myself if I hadn't gone rigid at the sound of her honeyed little whisper, which followed the approaching footsteps. Without so much as a hint of an official tone:

"Well, hello, Andrey. Finally, we're alone!"