Page 57 of Cruel Demands

“One of them gave Orlov enough information to reach my mother’s gate before breakfast. Find out which one.”

“I will.”

“And find the three men who came to the eastern gate.”

A brief pause. “Alive?”

I look through the darkened glass. Taylor sits with one leg crossed over the other, her foot bouncing absently. She taps her pen against the paper and stares at whatever Dima has placed in front of her. He says something that makes her laugh once. The sound doesn’t reach me through the glass. I resent him for causing it anyway. “Alive,” I say. “I want to know who sent them, who told them about her pharmacy, and how they knew which entrance serves her wing.”

“And after?”

“Call me after.”

Arkady understands what that means.

I end the call and press the intercom. “Viktoriya.”

“Yes, Governor Korolev?”

“Send Miss Hayes in.”

A pause. Not long enough to be disobedient. Long enough to suggest she has opinions. “Yes, Governor Korolev.”

I release the button and look down at the files on my desk. Donor meeting. Polling numbers. District briefings. A threat against my mother that cannot be solved from behind a polished desk. All of it important. All of it waiting. Waiting the way Taylor is on the other side of the glass.

Viktoriya speaks to her. Taylor’s head turns toward my office. Her hand moves immediately to her hair. She smooths her long dirty-blond ponytail, then adjusts her bangs, unaware that I can see her. A strand has caught in one of her earrings. She frees it, takes a breath, and reaches for the folder on her desk.

Dima says something to her. She answers without looking at him. Viktoriya gives him a warning look from across the desks. He puts both hands up in surrender, smiling at her rather than Taylor.

I let Taylor take her time. When she finally knocks, I call, “Come in.”

She steps inside and leaves the door open by an inch. I notice immediately. “Close the door, please.”

Her eyes move toward the darkened glass wall, then back to me. She considers what a closed door with the governor might mean. To her. To the office. To anyone watching.

I dislike that she has to consider it. I dislike even more that she is right to.

Still, she obeys.

Good girl, I think, and hate the memory of the phrase in my own mouth.

Taylor stands near the door with the folder held against her chest like a shield. Her work clothes are even more distracting now that I am forced to look at them directly. Earlier, surprise protected me. Now nothing does.

Her dark skirt is fitted but modest, ending just above her knees. Her blouse is tucked neatly into it, though the collar sits crooked. I have the sharp, useless desire to fix it with my own hand, but the desk remains between us.

“You wanted to see me?” she asks. The formal tone is good. It’s the same one she used when she called me Governor Korolev in front of Viktoriya. Respectful enough for anyone listening. Sharp enough for me to know she is angry.

“Yes.” I gesture toward the chair in front of my desk.

She shakes her head. If she will not come to me, I will come to her. I stand.

Her fingers tighten around the folder.

“I wanted to check with you. Earlier, I was unnecessarily harsh about your lateness.”

“You were?”

“I was.”