Page 6

Wearing heels when I knew I’d be running around all day was a bad idea. It’s barely four o’clock, and my feet are already killing me. I didn’t know the position of deputy director involved constantly sprinting from one end of the building to the other, but I’m easily hitting my ten thousand steps a day.

Joseph Wilson, on the other hand, is the kind of person who summons everyone else to his office rather than get up and move anywhere himself. He only utters a single sentence when he calls me, but it’s enough to make me grit my teeth.

“Alma, be a dear, come see me in my office.”

“Excuse me? I think I must have misheard you.”

He repeats his over-fifty, white-man sentence a little louder, still completely unaware that there’s anything wrong with it.

“I’ll come because it’s my job, not because I’m… ‘a dear,’” I reply, emphasizing the last couple words.

“Suit yourself,” he mutters, before hanging up.

I head to the sumptuous office that the director of the French branch has claimed for himself. It’s a fully equipped, painstakingly decorated 550-square-foot room, complete with a bar area and, out on the rooftop terrace, a golf practice mat. All topped off with a panoramic view of the Champs-Élysées.

All that’s missing is a massage table.

Shuddering at the thought, I knock on the double doors. Without waiting for an answer, I push them open and stumble straight into… Vadim. I manage not to fall, but it’s still humiliating, and I only manage to regain my balance after some serious maneuvering.

Just like before, I’m assaulted by conflicting emotions. He’s here, once again, exactly where I didn’t expect him to be. And once again, my heart leaps painfully in my chest.

I pull myself together and prepare to greet him, but Vadim moves away from me without a word, walks over to the window, and studies the view. Apparently, Parisian architecture and traffic interest him more than I do.

In the background, Wilson launches into a tedious monologue. “Well, I assume you two have already met? Mr. King, you should know that Ms. Lancaster is currently exceeding my expectations, and by the same token, it seems, yours. She has shown remarkable efficiency and an uncommon sense of initiative in recent weeks. It is thanks to personalities and talents like hers that the French subsidiary will flourish. And I haven’t even begun to tell you about her natural—”

“I’ve already heard all that, Joseph,” Vadim cuts in, still with his back to us. “I don’t have time to waste, so can we move on?”

“Yes, of course. Please excuse me, but I care so much about this company that sometimes I tend—”

“Wilson! Let’s move on.”

“Yes, of course. Alma, I called you in to discuss various departments’ performance. We have very little visibility at the moment, but—”

He’s interrupted by the sound of his cell phone ringing.

“Excuse me for a moment, I’m expecting an important call.”

Feverishly, Joseph picks up and barks his last name, then signals to me that he has to step out for a few minutes. With his phone wedged against his shoulder, he turns to Vadim as if to ask for permission to leave. Vadim ignores him, but my manager eventually gathers up his courage and strides awkwardly across the room. A few seconds later, his annoyed yells can be heard echoing in the hallway, until he is finally out of earshot.

Not a sound. Vadim and I both remain motionless. Mute. Alone together. He still isn’t looking at me, and I just stand there. Exactly like I did in that classroom, the first time we met, back in college.

I shake my head to banish the nostalgia from my mind. Then I decide to break the deafening silence by attempting to say something. What exactly? I’ve got no idea. Something.

“Here we are, twelve years later.”

“…”

“I thought I’d never see you again.”

“…”

“I didn’t know you were the CEO… and that I’d be working for you.”

“…”

I’m overcome by emotion. His indifference is killing me.

“You changed your name?”