Page 25 of Tell Me What you Think

"Second one," Marina says.

In barely twenty minutes the order arrives, and they both move to the conference table inside Marina's office so they have more room to eat.

"Have you heard anything more from Andrea?" the vice president asks while Olga divides up the food.

"She's already requested the property registry extract, and in January she'll take care of the last will certificate. I have to stop by her office today to sign some paperwork, but everything's moving slowly with the holidays. Honestly, I can't wait for them to be over so I can see how it all starts coming together."

Marina bites into a piece and closes her eyes with a small sound of pleasure as she savors it, and Olga is completely incapable of doing anything but staring at her.

"At least now you know your cousin doesn't have a leg to stand on and you can fight back," Marina says, dabbing her mouth with a napkin.

"Yeah. I don't think I can ever thank you enough for putting me in touch with her. The not-knowing was killing me."

"It was nothing, really. One phone call and a dinner I'd have paid for anyway, any other time."

"Do you see her often?"

Olga isn't sure she's overstepping, but talking to Marina comes so easily that sometimes she catches herself asking things like this.

"I don't know, maybe a couple of times a month, sometimes a little more when she has something to take care of near here, and then we grab lunch."

"She's warm and easy to talk to. She made me feel comfortable right away," Olga says, nodding.

"I can't imagine hiring a lawyer who doesn't make you feel safe when you're telling her your problem. We've got enough of our own crap to deal with without ending up with someone stiff who listens without actually looking at you."

"Totally."

"What are you doing tomorrow?" Marina asks suddenly. "Family dinner, friends?"

Olga shakes her head, scanning the sushi tray to choose.

"Neither, really. I don't have any family left since my mom passed—well, Marc, but he and I aren't close, and even less so now. And my best friend is Silvia Mas." She pauses as Marina nods at the name.

She'd already guessed as much, having seen them talk plenty of times, even leave together some evenings.

"But Silvia went to her boyfriend's hometown for the holidays, so what I've got waiting for me is a couch, some grapes, and whatever special is on TV. It doesn't sound as sad as it looks," she adds when Marina frowns. "I'm used to it, and it's not something that gets to me. I keep myself entertained with the show, have dinner, and if I'm not asleep before midnight I'll eat the grapes and call it a night. I don't think starting the year rested is such a bad plan. Have you ever tried going out in Barcelona on January first, first thing in the morning?" she asks, amused. "The streets aren't exactly empty, but you can actually walk without having to dodge people the whole time."

"Yeah, I've done it once or twice. I usually spend Christmas in Tenerife with my mom, but if I don't—like this year—my plan looks a lot like yours, except I put on a movie and I never make it to midnight to eat the grapes."

Olga's heart is beating fast. It's the first time they've talked this much, and she feels so at ease with this woman that, if it were up to her, she'd give up every vacation she had left in her life if the reward was spending it with her.

They go back to work and sink into the rhythm they've built over the last few days. They work well together—despite Olga's nerves and her tendency to fumble at the worst possible moments—and they're perfectly in sync. Marina reads through the documents and highlights paragraphs while Olga sorts information and takes notes on each contract they review.

She tries not to stare at her boss's hands on the page too long, because those hands are one more thing she loves about her, and Olga needs to compartmentalize if she wants to remember to work and breathe at the same time. But this afternoon everything is getting harder and harder. Since their conversation at lunch, something has shifted and sharpened. The pull toward Marina is no longer just physical or emotional—there's something else now, a certainty she can't shake: a kindred spirit, the kind only a few lucky people ever find.

"Oh, I almost forgot." Marina turns toward her, and Olga sits up, going so rigid at the sudden closeness that her back muscles start to ache.

"What is it?"

"Javier sent me an email last night confirming the Lisbon visit. We leave the morning of the sixth—I think that's a Tuesday. We'd spend a full day in meetings at the Nauta offices and fly back Wednesday afternoon. I know it's a holiday and it's a terrible ask, but those people work on the sixth, and with the schedule we're running on…"

"Right, of course, no problem. Should I book the flights, then?" Olga asks, though for her there very much is a problem—her pulse is racing at the idea of traveling with her boss, and she's surprised her voice came out steady instead of doing that high-pitched thing it does.

"Flights and the hotel, yes."

The blush hits her all at once, and her chest swells as though she's breathing in stages, trying to swallow a nervous sigh and failing completely.

"The hotel, right, yes, of course. It's not like we're sleeping on the street," she murmurs, a little dazed, and the worst part comes when Marina laughs at that and the scar pulls at her lip and curves the corner of her mouth on just one side.