Page 12 of Tell Me What you Think

She gets to the office a little earlier than usual because she wants time to get organized, to meet with Olga and bring her up to speed on her way of working, and above all to settle into an office that feels, to her, like moving into a new apartment—somewhere you have to get used to everything all over again.

When she reaches her assistant's desk, she sees her bag sitting on the chair and the office door open with the light on. Curious, Marina moves closer, trying not to make any noise, and stops just beside the doorframe, half her body hidden by the wall as she takes in the room.

Olga still has her coat on and is leaning over the desk, straightening the pending folders Ricard left before he went, so focused on what she's doing that she hasn't noticed Marina is there.

Once the desk is the way she wants it, Marina sees her turn on the monitor she'll plug her laptop into, then turn toward the window to open it a crack, standing in front of it for a moment before she suddenly closes it and murmurs something Marina can't quite make out.

"Good morning, Olga," she says, before Olga can turn around.

Her intention was to keep her assistant from being startled when she turned and found her there, but she manages the opposite—Olga spins around with a jolt and stumbles back a step, one hand on her chest and her mouth half open after letting out a sharp shriek that startles Marina right back.

"Oh my God, I almost had a heart attack."

Her pale face brings Marina a step closer, her own pulse still racing.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. You didn't hear me come in, and I figured it would be worse if you turned around and found me standing there—but it looks like I pulled that off anyway."

Olga stands still for a few seconds, reminding herself that her new boss is here. She's not used to seeing her this early, coat still on, with that look somewhere between awake and disoriented that belongs to someone whose body is up but whose brain hasn't quite caught up yet.

Her heart is pounding, but Olga knows it isn't only from the scare—it's because this woman always has that effect on her body. Surges, flushes, and an uncontrollable heat she can already feel rising in her cheeks.

"It's okay, I just wasn't expecting you this early. Ricard usually came in later, so I had time to get everything ready."

"What were you getting ready?" Marina asks, curious.

"He liked to find his computer on, though you won't need that since you have a laptop." Olga nods toward Marina's bag. "I also opened his window—he ran hot and wanted the office cool when he arrived, but I don't know what you like yet. I don't know what you need."

Olga exhales when she finishes, because she's barely breathed through the whole thing.

"Don't worry about me," Marina says, setting her bag on a chair and starting to take off her coat. "I don't need anything special—just the day's schedule printed out first thing in the morning."

"Printed, got it," her assistant notes. "What else?"

Marina smiles, and that damned scar makes it come out crooked, sending a wave of warmth through Olga's chest. She's always wanted to know how she got it, but it feels like too intimate a thing to ask.

"Nothing else. That's plenty."

"Okay," Olga says, though she looks a little thrown, as if losing part of her morning routine has knocked her off balance.

"Well—I'm going to grab a coffee. Want me to bring you one?" Marina offers, and her assistant's eyes go wide.

"You? I'm the assistant—tell me how you want it and I'll get it right now."

Marina's eyelids lower for just a second, and Olga is hypnotized by those long lashes.

"You're my assistant, not my personal barista. You can tell me what you want or come with me, but I'm going to get it myself."

Olga, who would normally freeze up entirely, manages to react in time to keep from looking like an idiot and nods.

"Alright, I'll come with you," she murmurs, and as she walks beside her boss, she quietly congratulates herself for taking the chance to spend a few extra minutes with her.

Marina swipes her badge on the reader, and Olga can't help noticing her perfect manicure—nails painted burgundy, a silver watch on her right wrist. No rings on any finger, either hand, and Olga wonders how long it'll be before someone comes along who wants to put an engagement ring on one of them. Because who wouldn't want to marry this woman?

"Go ahead," Marina says.

"What?"

"Press the button for what you want," she answers, pointing at the machine.