The other receptionist looked up, shocked, and the blonde burst out laughing.
"Wife?" She eyed me up and down, mockery raw. "If we kept a list of women claiming to be Mr. Orlov's wife, girlfriend, or long-lost sister every day, it'd wrap the building three times."
"I really am." My palms sweated, humiliation rising, but I pushed on. "Call the executive office to verify.Or Boris."
"Boris? Fine." She rolled her eyes, reluctantly picking up the receiver. "I'll ask. But if you get chewed out, don't say I didn't warn you."
She dialed, switching to a syrupy tone. "Hello? Executive office? There's a lady down here, yeah, with a lunchbox, says she's Mr. Orlov's wife. Yeah, I know it's hilarious, but I just... okay, got it."
She hung up, her look shifting slightly, but still no respect.
"They said someone's coming down. Wait over there." She pointed to the lobby lounge.
"Thanks."
I exhaled, carried the bag over, and sat.
Waiting dragged on forever.
It was rush hour, elevators spitting out employees. They passed the lounge in groups, eyes inevitably landing on me.
An ordinary woman, clutching a lunchbox, fidgeting on the leather couch.
I caught their whispers.
"Who's that?"
"Dunno, says she's delivering food."
"To whom? We got that service here?"
"Heard it's for the boss... God, what outdated rom-com is this?"
Their stares pricked like needles. I looked down at the bag—cozy at the manor, but here, it screamed childish and tacky.
I didn't belong.
Once the thought hit, it stuck. Why'd I come? Why think Kirill wanted to see the woman forced on him?
Just as I nearly bolted, the private elevator dinged open.
I shot up, heart racing.
But it wasn't the handsome suit stepping out.
It was Boris.
And Boris looked awkward. The usually grinning giant frowned, eyes dodging, avoiding mine.
My heart sank.
Boris hurried over, stopping two steps away. Lingering employees slowed, and the desk blonde craned her neck for the show.
"Ma—Miss Harper." Boris switched titles, voice low. "Boss is in a meeting."
"I know." I forced a smile, lifting the bag. "Just dropping off food. Olga said his stomach's bad, so I made borscht. I can wait upstairs or leave it in his office—"
"No."
