/Kate/
Hearing the shrill melody of my alarm, I groaned, stretched reluctantly, and pried my eyes open. “Already 6:30 a.m.! Damn it!”
“Mondays are always the worst!”—a saying I wholeheartedly agreed with, and one clearly coined by someone with a sharp mind. Lately, it felt like every single day of my life had morphed into a Monday. It’s not that I hated my job, but sometimes I just wanted to sleep in and not grind away like a workhorse.
Ever since my assistant Maria went on maternity leave, I’ve been like a ship without a rudder. She was a real fairy godmother: she knew everything and understood me with just half a word. Oh, how smoothly things ran back then! And now, finding a worthy replacement feels like an impossible task. The HR department, those sneaky devils, seems to take perverse pleasure in sending me one incompetent candidate after another. As I’ve noticed more than once, they especially love brown-nosing the CEO by pushing his latest fling my way. Absolute monsters! But fine, I’m not done fighting yet!
Rolling out of bed with a huff, I marched confidently to the bathroom. If you wake up and get ready following the same routine every morning, soon you can do it with your eyes closed. Basically, on autopilot. The key is to keep fueling up on time. In my case, that’s coffee, coffee, and more COFFEE! I’m afraid if I don’t find a decent replacement for Maria soon, I might just overdose on caffeine.
These days, I practically live for work. It’s my friend to share lunch with, and my lover I don’t want to sleep with because I’m not in the mood, but I have to anyway. Work doesn’t complain, of course, but my personal life? Oh, it’s far from happy. Though, who’s to blame for the fact that I have neither the energy, nor the time, nor the desire to start any kind of relationship with the opposite sex? And as time and life experience have shown me, it’s best to keep men at arm’s length. Especially if you earn more than they do or, worse, you’re a boss with a team of subordinates under you.
For some reason, the so-called “stronger sex”—a highly debatable label, if you ask me—still can’t accept women wanting to be independent, self-reliant, and to aim for more in life than just cleaning, laundry, cooking, and changing diapers. Maybe that’s why I’m alone. I’m no domesticated pet, and I’m certainly not cut out to be the perfect little wife.
Getting to the office took longer than I’d hoped, thanks to the eternal traffic jams that are the bane of every big-city driver’s existence. But what irritated me most was drivers like the jerk who nearly cut me off.
A lot of people seem to think that if a woman’s behind the wheel, she deserves to be treated with contempt: don’t let her merge, speed past her, and then blame her for not knowing how to drive. As if they’re any better themselves! Take this arrogant fool, for instance, who fancies himself a racecar driver. He zoomed past me like a meteor streaking across the sky, nearly clipping the right side of my car. Talk about having more bravado than brains—that’s him in a nutshell.
What exactly was he trying to prove with that stunt? What if I hadn’t been able to maintain control and ended up causing an accident? Where’s the common sense in these self-important clowns? Who even gives them a driver’s license? People like that shouldn’t be allowed to ride a bicycle, let alone drive a car!
Cursing the pompous driver under my breath, I gripped the steering wheel tightly and tried to calm down as I continued on my way. I didn’t have the time or the inclination to get into it with yet another show-off.
Finally parking my car near the office, I stepped out and headed toward the entrance. To my utter surprise, among the other employees’ parked cars, I spotted the very same Audi R8 that had nearly kissed my darling car earlier! I know there are plenty of sports cars like that in the city, but this one stood out. The custom twenty-inch rims painted in a bold red—matching the car itself—were a dead giveaway.
“Hmm, I wonder who’s visiting us with such style?” I mused to myself. After greeting the security guard at the post, I made my way to the elevator. Stepping inside, I let out a heavy sigh and mentally prepared myself for an interview with a potential assistant. If memory serves, I had a few more lined up for today. I really didn’t feel like sitting in this stuffy office, sweating through meetings, when the weather outside was so lovely—early spring, with everything blooming and fragrant. I’d much rather be strolling through a park right now. But first, I have no one to go with, and second, ditching work sets a terrible example for my team. They already resent me for my obsessive insistence on them doing their jobs to perfection.
“Good morning, Katherine!” chirped Ksenia, flashing a smile that showed off all thirty-two of her pearly whites.
This sweet, bright girl always amazed me with her inner beauty and innocence. In massive cities like New York, London, or this one, it’s tough to achieve success while staying true to yourself. Maybe that’s why Ksenia is still working at our reception desk. Or maybe I’m wrong, and she’s just happy where she is.
“Good morning, Ksenia! You’re glowing as always! Any news for me?” I replied, returning her smile.
She’s one of the few in this snake pit of an office I actually enjoy talking to. Well, “talking” might be a stretch—just exchanging a couple of pleasantries. Getting too chummy with employees never leads to anything good. I’ve seen it happen: show a sliver of weakness, and it’s game over. They’ll either tear you apart like a small fish in a shark tank or take advantage of your kindness to push their own agendas.
“There are a few letters, a couple of magazines, and one candidate for the assistant position. Between you and me, he’s from Sergey Ivanovich. Seems like a relative of his latest girlfriend,” Ksenia whispered, lowering her voice so passersby wouldn’t overhear.
Sergey Ivanovich Utyosov is our CEO and a good friend of mine. As a person and a boss, he’s a gem, but as a partner? A total disaster. No wonder none of his girlfriends stick around for long. Then again, who am I to judge?
“Since when does Utyosov personally pick candidates for me?” I asked, raising an eyebrow in suspicion. Something’s off here, I can feel it in my gut!
“I’m not sure, Katherine. He called just a few minutes ago and said someone from him would be here by 7:30 a.m. His resume—and the man himself—are already in your office,” Ksenia replied.
“What do you mean by ‘he’?” I pressed.
“Well, ‘he’ as in, a man,” she clarified, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
“What? Has Sergey completely lost it?” I thought to myself, shaking my head to dispel the unwanted thoughts.
“So, he’s trying to set me up, huh? I’ll show you, my dear friend!” I muttered under my breath and, without saying goodbye to Ksenia, marched toward my office.
Look, I get that I’ve been overly demanding lately, and maybe I nearly botched a project because I can’t handle everything on my own. But that’s no reason to foist relatives and friends on me. If I struggle to get along with women, working with a man will be an all-out war! What sane man would want to take orders from a woman? Honestly, it’s a headache waiting to happen.
After striding about twenty meters, I stopped just a few steps from my office door. Suddenly, my resolve vanished. My heart started racing, and my palms grew sweaty. The reason for these uncharacteristic reactions was the man I glimpsed through the glass door. For some reason, his silhouette felt painfully familiar. A pang tightened in my chest.
The man stood by the window with his back to me, intently studying some papers in his hands.
“No! It can’t be him!” I reassured myself, rubbing my eyes. “Why on earth would he be here?”
“Get it together, Kate!” I whispered to myself, taking a deep breath before opening the door.
“Good morning!” I said in a confident, steady tone to get the man’s attention.
He didn’t even flinch. Calmly, he closed the folder he was reviewing and slowly turned to face me. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to sink through the floor—five stories down, for all I cared.
Standing before me was none other than Andrew Drozdov in the flesh. And here I thought this day couldn’t get any worse! How naive of me.
“What an unexpected meeting!” he exclaimed as our eyes finally met.
His deep brown gaze, framed by thick lashes, always made me tremble inside. “But not this time. Not this time! That’s all in the past!” I told myself firmly.
“I can’t say the same,” I shot back sharply, crossing my arms over my chest.
Andrew studied me for a few seconds. His eyes traveled from head to toe before he spoke.
“Come on, Katie, it’s been years. How about you whip us up some coffee, and we can chat before my interview starts?”
“Seriously? He’s mocking me now? Coffee, my foot!” A wave of indignation washed over me.
“First of all, Drozdov, I’m not your ‘Katie’! Save that nonsense for your Svetlana! And second, if anyone’s making coffee around here, it’s you—if you don’t bomb this interview, that is!” I snapped, trying to sound as stern as possible.
Andrew looked at me from under his brow, thoughtfully scratching the back of his head. It was clear he had no idea who he was dealing with. But why was he even here? I’d never believe he suddenly needed a job, especially one like this.
“You’ve changed a lot,” he said with a smile after a few seconds of silence.
I just rolled my eyes. There was no point in engaging in this pointless conversation.
“So, do you want this job or not?” I asked, hoping this whole situation was just a silly mistake and he’d disappear from my sight soon.
“Well, yeah, sort of, but…” Andrew replied, scratching his head again.
He was clearly nervous, and it was obvious to anyone with eyes. But why he was nervous, I couldn’t tell. Maybe he just wasn’t ready to work under a woman’s leadership. And honestly, I was banking on him saying no.
“No ‘buts,’ Drozdov! Either you’re in, or don’t waste my time. Believe it or not, I’ve got other things to do besides dealing with you,” I said curtly, trying to usher him out the door. The sooner, the better.