“Okay,” she said as I turned on my heel. “Mr. Fokin,” she said, hurrying to catch up, but by now looking slightly more annoyed at my reticence than anxious about her performance.
Before she could say another word, I turned and gave her a look that had everyone except my stubborn family members shutting up in a hurry. “It’s Rurik, remember? You’ve been here too long now to keep tripping up on that. I’ll explain what needs to be done, but first, lunch.”
And not just any one of the regular lunch meetings we frequently shared to discuss day-to-day activities or books when time allowed. This was important. It could very well be a turning point if she could handle what I had to offer.
No sandwich shop today. Not even my cousin’s upscale diner. We were going to the best restaurant in town.
Chapter 4 - Clem
The first two months of my job were a dream, notwithstanding my tyrant boss, who hadn’t grown any less demanding as time passed. There were times when I wondered how he believed anyone could do everything he asked of me, but the fact that he seemed so sure I could kept me motivated to keep going.
Well, that and the paycheck.
I had been given my long list of job requirements only after I eagerly accepted the position, and since I enjoyed having a roof over my head, all I could do was face them as they came. And poring over discount websites for new furniture and artwork to make my workspace less depressing was kind of fun.
The pay was great, and I was able to move out of that shady room in Hollywood for a slightly less shady room closer to the office. Now I could leave my junker at home and walk to and from work, which saved me on gas money and the stress of waiting for the old car to die at any moment.
Everyone who worked at Gavrik Imports was pretty nice and supremely professional, which also made me stay on top of my game so I wouldn’t be judged poorly against their performances. While this wasn’t my first job by far, it was the first one I thought might actually go somewhere. After having to leave my college diploma behind, I was lucky for the opportunity.
The only thing that was a bit of a downer was the loneliness. I spoke to Aunt Gigi regularly, but it didn’t quite cut it when she was so far away, and there were things I didn’t want to burden her with. There were lunches with my coworkers, but they were mostly to discuss work. The few times things lapsedinto gossip territory, I clammed up, not wanting to have to discuss my own life. A little loneliness was a small price to pay to stay safe and anonymous here on the other side of the country.
When Rurik told me to cancel my lunch plans with Diana from accounts, I wasn’t shocked. What did kind of shock me was his compliment about the transformation of the outer office I pulled off on his skimpy budget. I trotted along behind him, becoming increasingly more worried that he was about to give me some huge task I couldn’t possibly accomplish, because that seemed like something he enjoyed.
I enjoyed proving him wrong, but I kept wondering when he’d give me something that would ultimately make him see he had made a mistake in hiring me. He seemed in a good mood, not exactly rare for him, but it was much more likely he’d have a scowl on his face than a smile.
We chatted about what books we were currently reading, and while that was normally the high point of our lunches since I was so lean on a social life these days, I was both impatient and anxious to learn what he wanted me to do.
After we left the neighborhood, I figured we were going to his cousin’s diner, which I loved and couldn’t have afforded on my own, even with a steady salary. The burgers were divine, there was always live music, even at lunch time, and I’d seen two celebrities so far when we went there.
Rurik teased me the first time I goggled at an actor who was everyone’s favorite dad on TV when I was growing up. Then he had his cousin, Max, who owned the place, bring him over to get an autograph. It was crazy.
“It must be so nice to have a family member who runs a place like this,” I had said.
“You have no idea,” Rurik told me. “Just wait.”
What was that supposed to mean? I had no idea, and I didn’t randomly question my boss when he was in a good mood, like he was now.
“Oh my goodness,” I said, as he pulled his car up to the valet station.
Oh, not the vintage Ferrari this time, but the decked-out Mercedes he used to take prospective clients to his warehouse. His “everyday car,” as he called it, leaving me to believe he might have more than those two supremely fancy vehicles.
That was a conundrum I couldn’t figure out, and no one else in the office had ever brought up. For a man who had just started a business and was a stickler about the cost of chairs, he had at least two eye-wateringly expensive cars, a rotation of watches I couldn’t pronounce most of the names of, and now he was casually rolling up to a restaurant that even I knew would cost at least three hundred bucks for our lunch.
“Why?” I asked, hurriedly searching the restaurant on my phone.
Khoroshiy had two Michelin stars, hundreds of rave reviews, dozens of pictures of celebrities enjoying their meal there, and, according to one headline, a six-month wait.
“How?” I asked instead. I had only been at Gavrik Imports for two months.
He grinned, guiding me toward the door with his hand on the small of my back.
The heat of his palm seeped through my blouse, and for a moment, I wondered if Rurik was about to cross a line. And was I so against it if he did?
He was gorgeous, powerful, clearly over-the-top rich, and most importantly, we loved the same books. He could be atyrant, but his hardass expectations had driven me to excel beyond just the ordinary motivation of wanting to keep a roof over my head.
“As much as I’d like to keep that look of hero worship on your face,” he said, making my eyes bulge out of my head as I tried to look neutral. “Another one of my cousins owns the place. His wife is the head chef.”
“Hero worship?” I sputtered. “I was impressed, but…”