“I’m Andrei Popov,” I say. “Your boss.”
She nods again, resignation flooding her face before she speaks.
“I’m so sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to—”
“I know,” I interrupt gently. “Sit.”
She hesitates, then perches on the edge of the chair across from my desk like she’s afraid it might explode.
I’m about to speak but there’s a curt knock on the door. It pushes open and Howard Abrams strides in, face tight with what looks like concern. “Mr. Popov, I just heard about the incident. I want to apologize profusely—”
His gaze flicks to Mila, hardening instantly.
“This is unacceptable,” he says, turning fully toward her. “You were warned this is a demanding environment. Carelessness will not be tolerated. I’m afraid this isn’t going to work out.”
Her face drains of color.
“I—please,” she starts, standing abruptly. “I didn’t mean to—”
“You’re done,” Howard cuts in sharply. “You can collect your things and—”
“No.”
The word comes out flat, final.
Howard freezes. Mila does too.
I step forward, positioning myself slightly in front of her without thinking about it. “She stays.”
Howard blinks. “Sir?”
“It was an accident,” I say. “Could have happened to anyone.”
“That’s…not typically your stance,” he says carefully.
I don’t miss the surprise in his voice. Or the way Mila is looking at me now, like she’s not sure she heard correctly.
“I’m aware of my reputation,” I reply. “This doesn’t change my decision.”
Howard clears his throat. “If you’re sure, sir.”
“I am.”
He nods stiffly, clearly recalibrating. “Very well. I’ll get back to work now.”
He casts one last, displeased look at Mila before turning and leaving, the door closing firmly behind him.
Silence settles in the office.
Mila exhales shakily. “Thank you,” she whispers. “I swear I’ll do better. I just—I get nervous and—”
“I know,” I say.
She looks up at me, startled. Her eyes are a mesmerizing shade of blue. There’s something about her—an innocence that pokes at my protective instincts.
“I can see that you mean well,” I continue. “That matters.”
Her eyes shine. “It does?”