Page 65 of Tell Me What you Think

"And in three days you didn't find time to talk about it?"

Olga grinned again, and Silvia's eyebrows shot up. Then she whistled and finally raised her hand for a high five, like they were a couple of teenagers.

"I'm impressed," she said, amused. "Two years keeping your mouth shut, and when you finally open it, you literally devour your boss."

Olga laughed so hard her shoulders shook.

"How's it going?" Silvia asks, curious, waiting for her coffee to come out.

Olga glances both ways down the hall and gives a little shrug, shaking her head.

"Good, I think. We haven't made plans yet, but we had lunch together in her office yesterday."

"How sweet," Silvia teases.

Olga swipes her card for her coffee, thinking that yes, it is sweet, and that she loves it when Marina calls her into the office and drinks her in with her eyes as she walks in. That she loves it even more when she arrives in the mornings and leans over her desk on the pretext of looking at something on the screen.

"You smell amazing," she'd whispered on Monday, inhaling loudly with her face practically buried in Olga's hair.

She'd stopped breathing and nearly fallen off her chair when Marina brushed the back of her neck with her fingers before slipping into the office. She'd loved Tuesday too, when she opened a filing cabinet drawer looking for a contract and Marina set a hand on her waist as she passed behind her, making her forget what she was even after—and Wednesday, when they ran into each other at the coffee machine with people all around, and yet Marina stood beside her and grazed her fingers, sending a current straight up her spine and widening her smile for no reason.

That's how every day goes—finding each other with a glance, stealing a touch whenever they can—and Olga, sitting at her desk now, filtering Marina's emails down to the ones her boss actually needs to read, beams at the screen when she catches out of the corner of her eye that Marina is stepping out of the office.

"This one's for filing, Olga," Marina says, holding up a green folder. But instead of dropping it on the desk and leaving, she lingers behind her, at her side.

"I could've come in to get it," Olga says, turning toward her.

"You could have, but I felt like stretching my legs and taking the chance to watch you type. Turns out I really like watching you move those fingers."

"Marina!" Olga gasps, keeping her voice low.

Marina laughs with that crooked smirk and heads back to her office, where she stays until Olga comes in half an hour later, once she's finished printing the report the analysts finally sent over.

"Analysis finished the cross-reference of the missing Nauta appendixes."

"About time," Marina murmurs, looking up from the screen. "Sit down—let's go over it before lunch."

"Should I close the door?" Olga asks.

Marina holds her gaze, and Olga feels like she might spontaneously combust right there.

"Better not. Come on."

All Olga is missing is a little skip as she rounds the desk, drags over the chair Marina keeps behind her by the window, and sets it down next to her.

"Have you read it yet?" Marina asks.

"No."

They work in silence for the next twenty minutes, Marina leaning toward Olga, reading over her shoulder.

"Here," Olga says, moving the cursor down the column. "Ribeiro, Baltar, Nogueira, and the two from Setúbal—same thing in all five. Appendix three contains conditions agreed in writing with the client that don't appear anywhere else in the documentation: volume discounts, frozen rates for the next two fiscal years, and, in two of them, an exit clause with no penalty if ownership changes."

"Meaning the contracts they sold us as recurring aren't that recurring and don't bill what they put in the summary."

"That's what it looks like."

Marina leans back in her chair and stares at the screen, jaw tight. Then she picks up a pen and starts turning it between her fingers, thinking.