Page 59 of Tell Me What you Think

"You just said you wouldn't be the first couple at this company. So you're thinking of this as something real, right?"

Marina opens her mouth—but it stays open for a beat, her eyebrows climbing as it actually lands, because Jordi is right. She's not just curious. She doesn't want to spend a night with Olga to see what happens or figure out whether it's just some passing thing she needs to get out of her system. She likes Olga. And apparently she likes her enough to want something that goes much further than one date.

"Damn," she finally admits, and his laugh is so loud she spins toward the door, half-expecting someone to come in and ask if he's lost his mind.

"Yeah—damn," he agrees.

Marina grabs another piece of candy and stands up.

"Okay. Thanks for listening, and sorry for barging in like this."

He waves her off, and the vice president heads back to her office—but when she passes Olga's desk, she stops for a second and sets the piece of candy down in front of her.

Chapter 24

"Shit…" Olga whispers when the sauce she's about to taste slides off the spoon and drips down the marble counter and the oven door beneath the stovetop.

She grabs the dish towel to wipe it up, rinses it, and tries again, managing to taste the sauce and deciding it needs a little more salt. She pulls out her phone and goes over the recipe she's been making for the fourth time, checking that she's used every ingredient in the right amount and that the cooking time is correct. She shouldn't have made things so complicated—cooking isn't her thing, and the only dish she's ever nailed is the spaghetti carbonara she made the day Marina came over, but she told her she wanted to cook for her and she meant it, and she refused to make something that basic, so last night she spent hours scrolling through TikTok recipes until she settled on a cod stew.

Her hands are trembling, and she presses them flat against the marble counter while she mentally counts to ten.

"Okay, Olga, you've got this," she tells herself after a long sigh.

She lifts the lid of the pan as if she needs to confirm the cod is still in there, and finally makes herself go to her bedroom to finish getting dressed. She stands in front of the closet staring at the rack until she picks a pair of straight-cut black pants and a gray V-neck sweater over a salmon-colored blouse she hasn't worn yet and is perfect for the occasion.

She takes a quick shower, gets dressed, puts on a little makeup, and ultimately ditches the sweater because she's too warm. She goes back to the kitchen and turns off the burner when the alarm she set goes off, and when she lifts the lid, she smiles, satisfied with how it looks. She doesn't know if it'll taste good, but it looks incredible, so she leaves it on the stove and sets the table, finishing just as the doorbell rings.

Her stomach flips and something tightens low in her belly, making her breath catch, and Olga huffs in frustration because she knows her cheeks have probably already changed color.

Marina appears on the other side of her door in a long dark gray coat, a pair of cream-colored pants fitted to her legs, heels, and a wide-neck sweater that leaves Olga completely breathless.

"Hi," Marina says with a hint of a smile that sends a jolt straight between Olga's legs.

"Hi, come in."

Olga steps aside and closes the door once Marina crosses the threshold, and then an awkward moment happens—when Marina leans in to kiss her cheeks in greeting, Olga, with her usual clumsiness, moves in the same direction, and they end up nearly kissing on the lips.

"Sorry," she says, her face on the verge of combusting.

"Don't worry," Marina murmurs, and Olga looks up and manages a small smile, wishing she had even half her boss's composure. "Here, I brought white wine—I wasn't sure if you liked it."

"I like everything," she answers, nerves getting the better of her.

"Oh, yeah?"

Marina's eyebrow arches and she blinks a couple of times with those impossibly long lashes, sending a wave crashing through Olga's entire body.

"Yes, I mean… wine, you know…"

She grabs the bottle a little too abruptly and turns toward the kitchen before she says something even more embarrassing. Marina stays put near the entrance, biting her lip in amusement while she takes off her coat. Since Olga hasn't told her where to put it and there's no hook in sight, she folds it and drapes it over an armchair.

"God, I'm a terrible hostess," Olga mutters when she comes back. "Come to the kitchen if you want, or just sit down and I'll bring dinner."

"I'll help," Marina says, more and more amused by Olga's behavior.

"Okay, thanks."

Marina walks into the kitchen, where the smell of dinner is even stronger than what she caught when she first came in, and she can't help drifting toward the pan and lifting the lid.