Halston glanced in. The room was filled with brown furniture that had seen its prime years ago. A desk and basic chair, two guest chairs, and a filing cabinet.
It was drab and it would stay that way. Halston wasn’t displaying photos, wasn’t buying any greenery either. She had a job to do—two really—and decorating her workspace wasn’t one of them.
“I take you to Mr. Ambassador office,” Natasha announced, her thick Russian accent like sandpaper against Halston’s ears.
Natasha’s brisk stride had Halston hurrying to catch up. Again, Natasha stopped outside an office. Halston pulled up alongside her.
This office was the opposite of hers. Spacious. The walls were adorned with masterfully painted Russian art. Beautiful bowls and vases filled empty spaces on the shelves. The deskhad gold inlay around the border, the new executive chair still wrapped in protective plastic. Two massive guest chairs, a six-person conference table with upholstered chairs, the backs each depicting a different historic Russian scene. The bookcase behind the desk housed dozens of old, Russian books.
“Good, yes?” Natasha tucked her shoulder-length brown hair behind her ear.
“Very nice.”
Natasha marched out. Halston followed, feeling like a duckling.
Down the hall she went, beelining into an office at the other end. There, Natasha sat, got busy on her computer. Halston wasn’t sure if she should interrupt to ask if Natasha was finished or simply wait.
Since she had nothing better to do, she eyed the office. Same simple furniture, but Natasha had a framed photo on her desk of her and a man. Like her, he was short and thick. He had a shaved head, full beard and mustache. Looked to be in his forties.
“Husband?” Halston asked.
Natasha stopped typing, held up her right hand, displaying a diamond solitaire. “The wedding in February.” This time, her smile touched her eyes.
So, she is human after all.
“Pozdravlyayem.”Congratulations.
Natasha picked up her cell phone, made a call. “New hire is here. Can you check-in?” As she listened, her brows knitted together forming one long, dark unibrow.
That’s attractive.
As Halston bit back a smile, she turned away.
Even working with self-important Natasha couldn’t tamp down Halston’s joy. She was in DC.
I’m so happy to be back.
Natasha hung up, rolled her eyes, went back to her computer. “No apartment in compound. We have you on wait list.” She was too busy to look up. “I have new employee orientation—withoutthe help of assistant, UGH. I don’t have time to find you?—”
“I can find housing,” Halston offered. “And since the ambassador arrives in a few days, let me be of service to you. Can I get you coffee? What can I do for you?”
Natasha stilled, her hardened face frozen like a snapshot. Then, her brow softened, the frustration in her dark eyes melted away. “Spasibo.”Thank you.“I’m sorry, what is your name?”
“Minka, but I also answer to ‘hey you.’”
Natasha barked out a hearty laugh. “The new ambassador spoke good of you. Said you are trusted, loyal employee. That is good.” Her cell phone rang. She answered. “Privet.”Hello.
As she listened, the color drained from her cheeks, her eyes widened, then a cry exploded from the depths of her soul. “Vy uvereny?”Are you sure?
She hung up, swiped a tear, and cleared her throat. “My fiancé is dead.”
Whoa.
“I’m so sorry.”
Natasha’s eyes turned black, like the angel of death had descended upon her. “Murdered by Italian mafioso.”
What the hell?
