Page 1 of Taken By My Grumpy Pakhan

Chapter One

Genevieve

“Thump!”

The sound of files dumped on my table stole my attention from the medical documentary on my screen.

“The white envelope goes to the executive floor and the manila goes to security,” Richmond… Richard, the new douchebag who moonlighted as the top intern, announced before walking off with an air of deluded superiority. He didn't seem to realize at all that he was taking up my after-work hours, and it was already very late.

To the right of the reception, a group of men in suits and women in heels that would pay my mortgage filed out of the elevator wearing diplomatic smiles and engaging in small talk.

My spine straightened at the sight, nodding and smiling politely whenever my eyes caught any of theirs.

“The receptionist is the soul of any enterprise,” my mother’s voice echoed softly in my head. “They made sure everyone who walked into the building felt important.”

My mother used to be a receptionist, too. I’ve carried the pride she had in her job into mine. It wasn’t much but it made me feel like I was a part of something, like I mattered. Like I’d finally found my place in the world and was ready to make my mark. No matter what kind of difficulties I faced at work, I would try my best to take them in stride.

Five years in, if I stayed true to my course, remained upright and disciplined, I might be one of them. At least that’s what I told myself until it arrived.

Maybe it was a new development, maybe it had been there all the time, silently growing and waiting to be discovered. Either way, it was here now and I was aware of it and helpless. My smile faltered just as the last guest left the elevator.

Glioblastoma. I caught sight of the word before I turned off my screen, gathered the files and made my way to the elevator.

I had lived twenty-six years, volunteered at local clinics and nursing homes and never heard of the word till it stared me in the face right under the diagnosis section of my test results.

It was the moment that changed the course of my life. My dedication, dreams, hopes and safe way of going through life, none of it mattered anymore. Everything narrowed down to a single truth, I was a walking corpse.

The elevator light turned green and I stepped in, a heady booze of amber and sandalwood probably left behind by the guests immediately assaulted my senses before soft music wafted into the space.

My eyes rolled with cynicism. Two years in this firm and not once did the elevator feel this plush. I didn’t even know it had a music feature.

I leaned on the cool steel and let myself enjoy the comfort. Dying did that to you.

You realized how temporary everything is and your mind automatically makes the most of the situation. But like everything in my life, even this moment was cut short.

The elevator came to an abrupt stop, forcing my eyes open. The number fifteen flashed on the screen and the digital clock on the side showed 11:40 p.m.

I pushed off the wall, my senses heightened a notch. I knew I was born with the worst luck but surely the universe knew I was the only person in the office and 11:40 p.m. was hardly an ideal time to be stuck in an elevator.

As if on cue, the doors began to slide open. I held up the files, clutching them tightly to my chest as I pressed back into the steel box. I knew the conference room was empty, all the staff had signed out and I damn well didn’t press 15 when I got in, so what was happening?

My brain began firing with potential scenarios and how to get out of them but I’ve never been confronted by physical danger and I had the survival instincts of a fart.

I fished my pen from my pockets. It was hardly a weapon but I had seen enough movies to know it could do damage when used appropriately.

The door slid completely open.

A gasp slipped from me when I saw the man in the corner, hands in his pocket. Kazimir Ivanovich, aka my boss. Irritation darkened his icy blue orbs when they found me.

For a moment, neither of us moved. He spied me like a red splotch on a white dress while my head emptied of basic thoughts.

He was not… this was not… I took a quick scan of the elevator. Fuck.

“I’m sorry,” I finally managed to squeak when the pieces fell into place and he was already halfway in.

Of course this was his private elevator. The music, the smoothness, the smell… god the elevator was practically soaked in it now that he was inside.

“I’ll just—” He pressed the button to the executive floor before I could excuse myself, trapping us both.