Yana
Monday started with a disaster, as it often does. The kitchen faucet sprang a leak, and I had to shut off the water and mop up the puddle.
I peeked into my daughter’s room and saw her lying in bed, wrapped up in her blanket, staring at the ceiling.
I’d woken her up ten minutes ago, handed her clothes, and assumed she’d gotten ready. But clearly, she was waiting for me to dress her myself.
“Alice, come on, you’re not a baby anymore. You’re starting school next year,” I said, exasperated. “Hurry up and get dressed!”
“Next year is next year,” she drawled. “Right now, it’s this year.”
“We’re going to be late for daycare breakfast, and you’ll be hungry,” I countered, though it was a weak argument since Alice never liked the food there anyway.
“Maybe you shouldn’t go to that job and just work from home again, like when I was little?” she said, looking up at me with hopeful eyes.
“This job pays well,” I replied. “Don’t you like it when I buy you all the things you want?”
“I don’t wanna go to daycare!” she insisted, crossing her arms and pouting.
“Enough of this,” I said, pulling the blanket off her and getting her to her feet. “I’ve already got a ton on my plate. We’ve got a new boss at work, and I can’t be late today. Let me help you get dressed, but we’ve got to be quick, okay?”
***
She still kicked and fussed, refusing to cooperate. I threatened to take away her evening cartoons, which made her burst into tears. I had to calm her down and make peace.
By the time we got to daycare, all the other kids were already seated at the tables. The teacher gave me a disapproving look.
“Please try to arrive a bit earlier next time,” she said.
I nodded and hurried out of the daycare. There was no time to wait for the bus, so I called a cab.
As I got out of the car near the office, Vicky from accounting spotted me. She was heading out somewhere, and we nearly bumped into each other at the door.
“No need for a raise with you riding in cabs like that,” she teased with a smirk.
“It’s not up to you to decide my salary, it’s up to the higher-ups,” I muttered.
“Oh, speaking of higher-ups, the new boss starts today. I looked him up! Total heartthrob,” she grinned. “But apparently, he’s taken.”
“Good thing he’s taken, then. At least the girls in the office won’t be chasing after him,” I said. Honestly, I wasn’t thrilled about this new boss. I hadn’t even met him yet, but I knew his father, who had run our company, “Happy Day,” an event planning business, until recently. Two weeks ago, Vladimir Ivanovich had a heart attack and was still in the hospital. And now, it seemed his son had swooped in to take over the family business. That was the impression I got, at least.
“Rumor has it he’s a bit of a playboy, though,” Vicky continued. “Always at fancy parties with the rich and famous. Oh, and get this—he used to be a race car driver, pretty well-known too, but something happened, and now he’s here. Not sure if his girlfriend made him quit or what,” she said, shrugging.
“I don’t follow racing,” I said. For some reason, I already felt a dislike for this privileged guy. “I hope he just shows up once, then leaves the company to the deputy manager while he goes off to do his own thing. And then his dad recovers, and everything goes back to normal…”
Suddenly, Vicky glanced over my shoulder, her eyebrows shooting up. I could already guess what had caught her attention. A sleek red-and-black sports car pulled into the parking lot near the office. It was mostly black, with some flashy stripes. I’m no car expert, but it looked expensive, and the emblem was a little horse.
When the car parked, a man stepped out. Tall, muscular, dark-haired, with piercing gray eyes. He wore a coat over a suit… and sneakers? Expensive ones, sure, but still—sneakers!
He carried a gym bag and was heading straight for the office entrance—straight toward us.
Vicky and I exchanged a quick look.
“That’s him!” she whispered excitedly.
I stepped aside quietly, hoping the “athlete” would walk past without noticing us.
“Do you work here?” he asked, giving us a disapproving once-over.
“Yes,” Vicky squeaked. “Good morning!”
I mumbled a greeting too, though seeing the new boss in person only deepened my dislike. Sometimes you meet someone and instantly know you’re not going to get along, even if you barely know them. This was one of those moments.
“One more late arrival, and you can start looking for another job. I’m going to make this company run like a well-oiled machine. No more slacking off, got it?” he said, shifting his gaze from Vicky to me. “And you—your jacket’s dirty. If you’re a secretary, you need to look the part at all times.”
I glanced down at my jacket and saw mud splattered on it. A passing car must have splashed me, and I hadn’t even noticed. But of course, he did. What an eagle eye, darn him!
I wanted to snap that I wasn’t a secretary, but then I remembered I’d been assigned as this jerk’s assistant. I didn’t want the role, but Alexander Nikolaevich, the deputy to the former boss, had said I was the best fit for now and that they’d find someone else later. It was supposed to be temporary. So, because I had to work with this guy, I bit my tongue and swallowed the insult. Swallowed it, but didn’t forget it…
“Fine,” I said, avoiding his gaze. “I’ll clean the jacket right now…”
Rostislav
“…and our winner, Rostislav Bazhansky!” As the announcer called me to the podium, I felt the familiar flutter of nerves. Racing was my life, my everything. Every medal, every trophy, every title was earned through blood, sweat, and tears. But the thrill? It kept me going, even when it seemed like everything was over. “Rostislav, tell us, how did you overcome your injury? The doctors said you’d likely never return to professional sports, yet here you are, back on top!”
I was about to explain how I’d ignored everyone telling me to give up and “grow up,” how I’d started training from scratch—slowly at first due to rehab, then pushing harder—when a shrill ringtone interrupted me. I was surprised to realize I had my phone on me, right there in my racing suit. Normally, I’d hand it to my coach or my girlfriend, Mika, before a race.
But the phone kept ringing, so loud that I couldn’t hear the announcer anymore. The scene before me faded, and suddenly, I opened my eyes. I was lying in bed, Mika asleep beside me. The alarm was blaring in my ear. A quick glance at the time told me I had just ten minutes before I needed to leave the house.
“Damn it, Mika!” I nudged my stunning, long-legged blonde. “This is all because of your late-night parties! We overslept! I didn’t even get to train! I told you this would happen!”
“I’m not your personal alarm clock. You’ve got a brain of your own,” she grumbled, rolling over and snuggling deeper into the blanket. “Besides, you don’t need to train anymore.”
I rolled my eyes. She’d always had this attitude about my sport, especially after the injury. Sure, she believed in me for the first month or so, but then she gave up. It stung, but maybe she was right. Maybe I’d never get back on that track.
I didn’t say anything else. I hopped in the shower, got dressed quickly. Business suits weren’t my thing at all, but I figured I’d show some respect. Still, I skipped the dress shoes. White sneakers and a polo under the blazer—that should be good enough. Especially for a business like this, where I bet everyone dresses like over-the-top wedding MCs anyway…
I realized too late that my black “professional” Lexus was parked elsewhere. I usually preferred my black Jaguar with the red stripes. Maybe it was a bit flashy, but whatever—I didn’t feel like taking a cab to work. I needed to show up on time and make a decent impression.
The company’s numbers were dismal; they were barely staying afloat. With my dad’s illness, everything had gone downhill. I’m no business genius, but I could handle basic math. I needed to boost the numbers fast and offload the company to someone else. Give all the money to my dad so he could live out his golden years in luxury. I could support him myself, but the stubborn old man wouldn’t hear of it. I’d been telling him for ages to ditch this headache of a business that caused more trouble than profit.
When I ran into two young women at the building’s entrance, I immediately pegged them as lazy slackers. I guess that’s the kind of employee this type of business attracts.
The one with the dirty jacket was especially odd. They should’ve known I was starting today, but they clearly didn’t care. Well, if they didn’t care, then I sure as hell didn’t have to either…
***
During the meeting with the department heads, I got a rough idea of the situation. It was about as bad as I’d expected. Expenses were barely covered by project revenue—an utterly unsustainable mess.
“So, who’s going to bring me up to speed? Have you picked someone yet?” I asked the financial director.
“We’ve assigned one of our most valuable employees, Yana Kirichenko, as your assistant,” he replied. “She’s hardworking, organized, and has been with the company for a long time, so she knows everything that goes on here.”
I glanced at the woman he pointed to and instantly recognized the one with the dirty jacket. Hardworking and organized? That didn’t jibe with someone so sloppy. My look must’ve screamed skepticism.
“I see you’ve got staffing issues too,” I sighed. “Well, we’ll work with what we’ve got. What else can we do?”
The financial director frowned.
“I hope everything works out for you,” he said in a tone that suggested he doubted my competence.
The woman, Yana, just stared at me glumly the whole time, not saying a word. Was she also… let’s just say, not the sharpest tool in the shed?
“Yana, show Rostislav Vladimirovich the videos of our best projects,” my new subordinate said, clearly eager to wrap up the conversation and get rid of me.
“The projector is in your office,” Yana said as we left the meeting room. “Will you be watching the videos?”
“Is my office just one room? Is there extra space nearby? I need a separate empty room with good ventilation, ideally with a bathroom and a shower,” I replied.
She gave me a strange look.
“Well, there’s another room connected to yours. Your father used it to rest. There’s a couch, a table, a fridge. But no shower…”
“Is there a bathroom at all? There should be plumbing for a shower.”
“There’s a bathroom,” she nodded.
“Is it too small? Would a shower fit?” I pressed as we entered the office.
“You’d have to ask the maintenance guy if it would fit. Go take a look,” she said, pointing to a door at the back of the office that I hadn’t noticed at first, disguised as part of a wooden panel.
I headed over and stepped into the room. It was indeed a bathroom. Not much space, but logically, a shower should fit.
“Yeah, it should work. Where’s that other room? The one for resting?” I glanced at Yana.
“Right here, next door. Just a heads-up, though—the accounting department is on the other side, so it’s best not to make too much noise. The wall’s thin,” she said with a hint of a smirk.
“I’ll play music, but not too loud,” I chuckled. “Alright, take note. Clear out all this furniture from here. I want it gone by tomorrow. My equipment will be moving in. Have it ready by noon tomorrow…”