I force a shaky smile, though my heart is pounding. “I’ll figure it out. I just… I need a second, okay?”
She lets go, clearly bewildered. “Well… okay. But if I were you, I’d just rip the Band-Aid off.”
As I fumble for another excuse, voices rise from the corner office, louder than usual. Lina and I turn in unison, caught by the sudden pulse of commotion. A moment later, the door swings open and two men stride out with hurried, tense steps. The first is the scrawny attorney I vaguely remember from my first day, looking pale and rattled, clutching his briefcase like a lifeline.
But it’s the second man who holds my attention. He’s older, taller, his posture commanding even in his obvious irritation. His features echo Aleksei’s, the same strong jaw and cold blue eyes, though age has carved them deeper. For a heartbeat, I wonder if he’s an uncle, or maybe even Aleksei’s father. There’s an energy in his presence that draws a boundary in the air, the kind that tells everyone in the office to mind their own business.
Aleksei himself appears in the doorway, face unreadable. His gaze sweeps the room, landing briefly on me. I feel frozen, unable to look away from the force of his attention. He looks like he’s holding back a storm, as if something big just happened and he’s barely containing it.
As the older man passes, he barely glances at Lina and me.
Still, I can’t help but whisper, “Do you know who that is?” My words are almost lost in the hum of the office.
Lina shakes her head, frowning. “No idea. Never seen him before in my life. Maybe a big client or a… relative? I honestly have no clue.”
I watch Aleksei retreat into his office, the door closing quietly behind him. My heart is still racing from the dream, from the nerves, and now from the sense that something is shifting around me in ways I can’t see.
The rest of the morning crawls by with a nervous thrum in my veins. I barely manage to answer emails, my mind spinning with what happened yesterday, the men storming from Aleksei’s office, and the knowledge that sooner or later, I’ll have to face him.
When my phone finally buzzes with a message from his secretary—Mr. Vasiliev will see you now—my stomach plunges. His secretary gives me a “you’re going to get fired” smirk as I walk past her. I wipe my clammy hands on my skirt and take a steadying breath before pushing open the heavy door.
He sits behind his massive desk, framed by the skyline, suit jacket off, shirt sleeves rolled up. He doesn’t look up immediately, scribbling something on a file. When he finally meets my gaze, his expression is as unreadable as ever.
“Sit,” he says, nodding toward the chair in front of his desk.
I do, perching on the edge, trying to keep my breathing quiet. My mind is a tangle of anxiety and—God, help me—anticipation. Fora wild second, I imagine he’ll ask for something indecent. After everything, maybe that’s the real reason I’m here.
He glances up at me, voice low, “You’re here because there’s something… unique I need from you.”
My breath stutters. I hear the words, and every nightmare I’ve ever had about office power games and men with too much money slams into me at once. I stare at him, horrified, before I can stop myself blurting, “I’m not that kind of assistant. Listen, I don’t know what kind of impression I gave you yesterday but?—”
There’s a beat of silence. Aleksei’s eyebrows rise, and for a split second something almost like a smile ghosts across his mouth. “Noted,” he says, and there’s a glint in his eye that suggests he’s genuinely amused.
He sits, steepling his fingers, the mask slipping back over his features. “No. This is strictly business.”
I feel the heat crawl up my neck, mortified. “Sorry, I just—never mind. I just want to forget about yesterday, let’s not bring it up, like ever.”
He doesn’t dwell on it. His expression shifts, and suddenly I feel the ground shift beneath me, even before he speaks.
“The real reason I hired you,” he says, voice even, “is that I need you to help me find a bride.”
My brain stutters, every thought scattering. “I’m sorry. What?”
He leans back, watching me, waiting for the realization to sink in.
A bride.He wants me to help him find a wife.
My brain stutters, every thought scattering. “I’m sorry. What?”
“You heard me. I need you to find me a bride. Discreetly. Someone suitable. I’ll provide a list of requirements. The rest… I trust to your judgment.”
I stare at him, searching his face for a punchline, for any hint that he’s joking. He leans back, watching me, waiting for the realization to sink in.
My mind reels. Yesterday, I stumbled on him in the most private, filthy way possible—watched him lose control to the sound of my own voice. And now he sits here, composed, acting like nothing happened, giving me a task so insane I wonder if I’ve finally cracked under the city’s pressure.
I can’t help it; I blurt, “Are you seriously asking me to find you a bride? After… after yesterday?”
He raises an eyebrow, that hint of a smile back on his lips. “I thought you didn’t want to dwell on what happened yesterday, Zatanna.”
