Page 7 of Babies for the Boss
“Do not speak about this conversation to anyone.”
Guy nods again, this time more firmly. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
I tip my head to the door, and he takes his cue to leave. When it shuts behind him, I breathe in the silence. Molly will check on me. She always does after meetings. Do I need anything? Is there anything she can do for me?
Lurid things come to mind, but I would never ask them of her. I cannot cross that line. The safest thing for both of us would be to maintain the distance that has existed between us since the day I hired her.
Unfortunately, that distance has been narrowing. Each time I pass by her, it takes restraint not to reach for her. Not to smell her hair or grab her round ass. When I think of her, a low ache persists in my balls.
I ignore it as I always have. There are practical matters at hand. Vinogradov’s return will require preparation, and preparation demands clarity.
If Molly Bennett is becoming a weakness, then the solution is simple.
Weaknesses must be controlled.
3
MOLLY
The next morningbegins the way most mornings do when you work for Pavel Strakov: with three phones ringing, two men arguing in Russian by my desk, a calendar that appears to be actively trying to kill me, and coffee so bad it might finish the job.
I sip it anyway and stare at the screen in front of me. “Okay,” I mutter under my breath, “we’re not doing this today.”
Igor, Andrei, and Vladimir have already walked through the office twice this morning, each time with the same tight expressions and the same quiet conversations in Russian that stop the moment I enter the room. I’m not fluent in the language, but after three years, I’ve picked up enough to recognize tone.
This tone is not friendly. Granted, Russian isn’t exactly the friendliest-sounding language, but I know these guys, and their mood is way off.
The office itself feels different too. The air is tighter somehow, like the building knows something important is happening andforgot to tell me about it. Normally, the captains come and go during the week, but not like this. Today, they move through the office in quick bursts, murmuring to each other before disappearing into Pavel’s office one by one.
When I glance toward the door now, it opens just long enough for Andrei Dabrowski to step out.
Andrei is quiet even on the best days, tall and observant in a way that makes people forget he’s in the room until he speaks. This morning, he looks more serious than usual, his brow furrowed as if he’s running numbers in his head. “Morning, Molly.”
“Morning,” I reply brightly, because if I match their moods, this place will become a funeral home before noon. “Coffee?”
He shakes his head. “Already had some.”
“Suit yourself.”
He gives a short nod and heads for the elevator, leaving the office slightly quieter than before.
A moment later Vladimir Cheski steps out from the men’s room.
Vladimir is the opposite of Andrei in almost every way. Where Andrei is calm and thoughtful, Vladimir complains about everything with the enthusiasm of a man who has made whining into an art form. “You changed the meeting time,” he says immediately.
“Yes,” I reply without looking up from the calendar. “Because Pavel cannot physically be in two rooms at once.”
He sighs dramatically. “You always move things.”
“That’s the job description.”
He mutters something in Russian under his breath and walks toward the elevators.
I grin to myself.
Vladimir complains about everything, but he always shows up exactly where I tell him to. The system works. Even when everyone’s too busy to notice.
When the office finally quiets again, I lean back in my chair and glance toward Pavel’s door. Whatever storm is brewing in there, I have a feeling it’s going to make my schedule look easy by comparison. But all that said, I’m not worried when it comes to Pavel.
