Page 14 of Tell Me What you Think

"On the contrary—she's been more helpful than I expected. Would you like to come to lunch, Olga?" she asks suddenly, and Olga has the feeling the floor tilts beneath her for a moment.

If she already feels ridiculous most of the time she spends around her, the last thing she needs is to sit across a table sharing time that has nothing to do with work. She's absolutely certain she'll end up knocking over a glass of water or spilling food on herself. No, thank you.

"M-me?" she asks, flustered.

"Yes, of course."

"We won't go far—it's walking distance," Jordi adds, as if trying to nudge her.

"Thanks, but I already have plans for lunch," she lies, and starts to wonder whether loving Marina is going to turn her into a compulsive liar. "Maybe another time," she adds, mortified.

"Sure." Marina stands to get her coat, passing close enough to Olga to practically drag her with the scent of her perfume. "See you later."

The two of them head out of the office, and Olga stays there, heart pounding, with the feeling that she's in free fall—and the only thing waiting for her at the bottom is concrete.

Chapter 7

Olga set the day's agenda on Marina's desk and turned to leave, then hesitated and glanced back at the printed sheet. She nudged it a few millimeters to the right until it aligned perfectly with the keyboard pad, nodded, satisfied, and walked toward the door. Just before stepping out, she stopped, closed her eyes, and breathed in the faint trace of perfume Marina had left in the room over the days — a scent she never tired of breathing in from the moment she arrived.

Half-convinced she was losing it, she switched off the light and left, hurrying to her desk to grab her card and head to the coffee machine. Ever since she'd stupidly lied and claimed she liked decaf, Marina had invited her twice to share that blend that tasted like dirty water and left such a disgusting aftertaste she had to walk all the way to reception to steal a candy from the bowl that always sat on the receptionist's desk.

She fixed herself a cortado and went back to her desk to drink it in peace. It was Monday, and it had been a week since she'd become Marina's assistant. Olga's had some adjusting to do since switching bosses: not just surviving that woman's presence, but dealing with the Executive Vice President of Strategy's stubborn self-sufficiency. Apparently, Marina had never had an assistant before, and delegating was so foreign to her that on Thursday afternoon Olga had had to walk in and tell her she had nothing to do.

Marina had lifted that gaze capable of melting a block of ice from her computer and looked at her while she thought.

"You're right, sorry," she said, opening her own calendar and flipping through the pages with a slight frown until her finger landed on one line. "I have a pending task — a status summary of everything Ricard left unfinished. Can you take care of it, and we'll set projected closing dates once you have it?"

Olga's smile spread as if she'd just been promised a trip to the Bahamas, because Ricard had been big on delegating small things, but her new boss had trusted her with something more complex — proof of real faith in her. Even so, she still struggled to accept that the only thing this woman needed from her each day was a sheet of paper left on her desk. She'd also had to start getting up earlier to arrive sooner, because Marina had the habit of coming in before everyone else, and Olga wanted to stay one step ahead — have the agenda ready and be at her post in case she was needed.

She was taking her last sip of coffee when she heard the elevator reach her floor and the doors slide open. Almost immediately came quick, confident footsteps — heels striking the floor — and Olga, who over these past few days had memorized the sound and could recognize it anywhere, couldn't stop her stomach from lurching.

"Good morning, Olga," the Executive Vice President greeted her, unbuttoning her coat.

"Good morning."

Olga couldn't stop the flush rising in her cheeks, but at least she didn't startle anymore, her voice came out steady, and she had nothing in her hands to drop. She watched her boss move toward the office, leaving that trail of perfume in her wake, and a moment later she reappeared.

"Coffee?" Marina asked without breaking stride.

Hypnotized by her elegance, Olga shook her head.

"Thanks, I'll go later — I don't feel like it right now."

Marina nodded and disappeared down the hall, and Olga felt like a miserable coward for lying so stupidly.

"Why don't you just tell her you don't like it? That you made a mistake?" Silvia had asked Friday afternoon over a couple of beers at the bar. "It's really not that complicated."

Olga opened her mouth, but her friend didn't give her time to answer.

"Okay, clearly for you it is," Silvia went on. "You've had a crush on her for two years and never once even hinted at it. I'm starting to think it's her eyes — she looks at you and your brain short-circuits. That it?" she teased, and Olga threw a chip at her.

The morning ran like the others: Olga handled the emails, the calls, and adjusted her boss's schedule as surprises came up, moving meetings around or pulling Marina out of some when she was double-booked.

She was good at this — managing and solving things so her boss only had to focus on doing her job — but what made Olga nervous were the surprises she couldn't control, like the moment Javier Montoya, the company's CEO, showed up unannounced.

"Hi, is Marina free?"

Olga studied him for a second before answering. She didn't have strong feelings about this man one way or the other, but he was the classic executive who only bothered learning the names of the people he dealt with daily and who held a title as high as Marina's. In all the years she'd worked here, he had never once addressed her by name.