Page 2 of Babies for the Boss
“Morning, Joe,” I reply brightly, because someone around here has to be cheerful. “Everything quiet today?”
Joe hesitates. That’s never a good sign. “Igor is upstairs waiting.”
That earns a small frown from me. “Great,” I mutter, pressing the elevator button. “Love that.”
It’s not that I don’t like Igor—he seems okay enough. But there’s always been something about him that doesn’t settle with me. He’s Pavel’s sovetnik, and as his advisor, he’s cunning and methodical and has a tendency to look like he’s overthinking every choice anyone has ever made.
The ride up to the top floor is smooth and fast, the elevator doors sliding open to reveal the quiet luxury of Pavel’s office suite. Glass walls, polished marble floors, and wide windows that offer a breathtaking view of Manhattan stretching out like a glittering kingdom. It’s dramatic without being flashy.
Igor leans against my desk. That alone is strange enough to make me stop short.
Igor Tabakov does not lean.
His hair is a short white undercut that makes him look older than he is. He’s a white man, but that’s an understatement. He might be the whitest man; he’s so pale. But his eyes are so dark they could be mistaken for black. He’s dressed in his usual dark blue suit, his thin frame eaten up by it. Not that he’s slight—just that he always buys suits a little too big for him. I’m not sure exactly why.
Because it’s easier to conceal a gun in a loose suit.
I shove that errant thought away. Don’t need to know the details. That’s why I’m overpaid for my work. I don’t ask questions I don’t need the answers to. No matter how much they eat at me.
I tilt my head at him. “I thought you were running late.”
“Traffic cleared.”
“How convenient.”
One corner of his mouth almost twitches. Almost. Igor’s version of humor is subtle enough that most people miss it entirely. I’ve learned to recognize the signs.
I drop my bag on the desk and glance toward the hallway that leads to Pavel’s office. The door is closed, which is unusual at this hour. Normally, I’m the first one here, giving me time to organize the day before Pavel arrives like a very expensive thunderstorm that rains on my parade.
Igor folds his arms, which somehow makes him look even smaller. “A gentleman is inside the office.”
I stare at him for a moment. “And you just let him sit in there?”
Igor shrugs. “He insisted.”
“That seems like something you could push back on.”
“He said Pavel would want to see him comfortable when he arrives.”
“Well, that’s ominous.”
Igor studies my expression, clearly weighing whether the situation is about to become my problem. After a moment, he nods toward the hallway. “You should get him coffee. Wouldn’t want Pavel’s guests to want for anything.”
If this guy is important enough to throw his weight around without telling Igor who he is, then Igor is right. Pavel has a variety of guests, some with names I never learn, so this isn’t the first time something like this has happened, but I hope it’s the last.
I smooth my skirt, take a breath, and start walking toward Pavel’s door. The glass panel beside the door is frosted, which means I can’t see inside, but I can feel the presence of someone in there the same way you can feel when someone is standing too close behind you in line at the grocery store. It’s a strange awareness that prickles at the back of my neck.
Behind me, Igor is pretending not to watch.
If this goes badly, he’ll be here before I can blink. That thought gives me just enough confidence to knock lightly on the door.
No answer. Which is mildly rude, considering someone is definitely inside.
I open the door anyway. “Good morning,” I call out in my most professional voice as I step inside the office.
Pavel’s office is deceptively intimidating. The desk is enormous and dark wood, the chairs across from it deliberately uncomfortable-looking, and the floor-to-ceiling windows behind the desk frame Manhattan like the city itself is reporting for duty.
Sitting in one of the guest chairs, facing the windows, is a man. He turns slowly when he hears my voice. For a moment, we just look at each other.
