“Whew! This has been entertaining,” I commented as we all walked back to the kitchen island.
“I’ll go get the next round of plates,” Anna said before adding in an excited tone, “I’ll be back before the pizza is ready.”
“Of course, you will,” Greta answered, chuckling as the young lady left the room.
“We could leave a slice for the boss. Call it a special treat,” she suggested, smiling mischievously.
“Why would I do that?” I questioned, folding my arms.
“Just from wife to husband,” she answered.
A wry chuckle left my lips. “I’ll pass.”
“There might be one or two in the way right now, but you both make a great pair.”
“Did you just saypair?”
“Yes,” she affirmed, nodding. “I’m not talking about surface level. You’re exactly what he needs to fill the empty parts of his life that make him incomplete.”
“And I don’t deserve to have the right person to make my life fuller?”
“You have him,” she stressed.
“Konstantin is theyangto myyin?” I sputtered.
“I know it doesn’t look that way,” she remarked, a patient smile on her face. “The boss seems icy, but that kind of frozen mass comes as a build-up of many things. Yet it doesn’t take so many things to defrost.”
“It doesn’t matter, we’re good this way,” I told her. “I can’t afford to lose myself.”
“You won’t lose yourself. He’s too genuine to let that happen.”
“I really don’t want to know.”
But, deep down, I thought of what it would be like to not have to think twice about Konstantin’s actions, to play around with him.
Hmm, mission impossible.
**********
“The boss sends for you, ma,” Hans said, standing by the doorway in my room.
“Uh, now?” I inquired, confused.
It was night, and I had retired to my room after an early dinner and another slice of the pizza we’d made earlier in the day. I had been sure the day would end without me having to see him.
Well, I was wrong.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Nodding, I got up from the bed and followed him out of the room. When we got to Konstantin’s office, Hans opened the door and stepped aside as I went in.
Konstantin’s gaze left the papers on the table and landed on me immediately. From the trace of hesitance in his expression, I knew I couldn’t expect anything good from this meeting. I moved closer to his table as he gestured towards the glossy pictures and papers splayed all over my side of the desk.
“Photos of the dead courier. Compromised bank accounts. All tied to Vitya Morozov. Tell me all you know about this,” he said.
My eyes skimmed the papers, and I sighed.
I’m tired of these investigations.
