Jonah Gray:Is that normal? For your team to fund your advertising campaigns out of pocket?
Helga:Not entirely. But it’s often the case we don’t have the budget to do what we want. We usually let it go, but that was before Sacha. He has some of us fired up enough about this app to want to move mountains.
Jonah Gray:I understand. And I don’t believe those mountains should come at the expense of yourselves, so if it’s any help at all, I am prepared to delay settlement of your account until a few months after your full launch date. By then, you should know if you have succeeded enough to draw more money from your superiors, and if you haven’t been, we can talk again about crowdfunding.
Helga:Is that your way of telling me you won’t let Sacha pay you?
Jonah Gray:It’s my way of telling you how it is. Whatever Mr. Ivanov chooses to do is entirely up to him.
There was nothing else.Mr. Ivanov. Sacha sucked in a breath. If not for the circumstances, he’d have found that kind of hot. As it was, the sight of Jonah’s kindness interlaced with the cold courtesy Sacha deserved made his stomach roil.I want him to call me Sacha.
Sacha wanted a lot of things.
He shut down Helga’s machine and left the office, turning off lights as he went. Darkness cloaked him, blanketing him in shadow, save a soft glow from beneath the door to Jonah’s office.
Leave it.
And for once Sacha listened. He turned his back on Jonah’s office, refilled the coffee machine, and left.
14
Winona:Come for a drink. Nico promised he won’t punch anyone this time.
Jonah read the message and deleted it, still fixated on the storyboards he’d created for Blutecc’s fragile fitness app. They were wholly unnecessary if Helga’s budget prophecies proved accurate, but for some unknown and likely ludicrous reason, he couldn’t leave them alone.
“Mr. Gray?”
Jonah glanced up. Curtis was in the doorway, clutching the coffee jug. Jonah nodded. “Help yourself, Curtis. It’s fine. I’m not sure how old it is, though.”
“It’s not old. Mr. Ivanov made it before he left a few minutes ago. I thought he’d made it for you.”
“Oh. Well. Okay, I suppose we’d better drink it then.” Dazed, Jonah held out his mug.
Curtis filled it and disappeared, only to return with a slice of the Russian fruit bread Sacha had brought in for breakfast a few weeks back. “Where did you get that from? I didn’t think anyone brought anything today.”
“It was in the break room, Mr. Gray. By the coffee machine.”
“Did Sacha—did Mr. Ivanov come back?”
“I don’t know. I’ve had the hoover on. Do you want me to check?”
“No, no. It’s fine.”
Jonah waved Curtis away and took a slow sip of coffee. It was rocket fuel, he’d have known Sacha had brewed it even if Curtis hadn’t told him. What he didn’t know waswhy.
We aren’t friends, remember?
Jonah remembered. As if he could forget. And he wasn’t above admitting to himself that he didn’t like it. Not one bit. Since the very first night they’d met, Sacha had become a bewitching constant in his life and their lack of communication now stung.
More than that. It hurt.
I miss him.
Jonah didn’t like that either.
He drank his coffee, still poking at the designs for the fitness app, between scowling at the sweet-smelling pastry he couldn’t bring himself to eat. It made no sense that Sacha had returned to the office to bring it to him, but at the same time, there was no other explanation. There was no one else here.
Maybe it’s not for you. Maybe he brought it for Samson and Curtis.But if that was the case, surely he’d have left it downstairs with Samson, with clear indicator of who he wanted to eat it.