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There’s probably nothing lamer than going to work when I’ve been given express permission to take the day, but there’s honestly nowhere else I’d rather be. Apart from curled up in my own bed, of course, but that’s currently not an option. I genuinely like what I do at CyberFort. The work is equal parts challenging and rewarding. Nobody mentions my late arrival as I take my seat at my workstation and slowly plug away at the assignment Luka gave me at the start of my internship.
Mikhail doesn’t appear to be in his office. Strange, considering I’ve never seen him away from his desk. It makes me wonder if something happened.
Now that I think about it, none of the Antonov brothers seem to be here today. Dimitri and Pyotr are usually always around, walking back and forth between meetings while mingling with the employees. Luka can usually be found lurking in a dark corner somewhere like the vampire I’m convinced he is. And yet it’s surprisingly quiet.Tooquiet.
I decide to dive into my work instead, ignoring the creeping sensation of loneliness weighing heavily in my chest. This wasn’t how I planned today to go. If I focus on my project, I keep my mind off Mom. Sure, it’s been five years, but I still miss her so much.
I find a rhythm in my work, sorting through lines of code. Writing, testing, rewriting. It’s an easy cycle I can follow for hours and hours on end. I don’t even realize it’s well past sundown until someone clears their throat. I look up, startled to find Mikhail hovering above me with a perplexed arched brow.
The floor is completely empty. I’m the only employee remaining. Outside, the sun has long since set beyond the horizon, the glow of New York’s busy nightlife filtering in through the large windows.
“Oh, hi…”
“What are you doing here?” he asks.
A watery chuckle escapes me. “I’m having a shitty day,” I admit, surprised at how easy the truth comes out of me. I don’t see any point in lying to Mikhail. I don’twantto lie to Mikhail. Right now, he’s the only person I feel like I can even remotely talk to.
Something flashes behind his eyes. Concern, maybe? It’s hard to tell in the dim lighting.
With his hands shoved casually into his pockets, he tilts his head in the direction of his office. “With me,” is all he says before stalking off.
I follow him into his office, closing the door out of habit even though it’s only the two of us here. In fact, I’m pretty sure we’re the only two people left in the whole building.
Mikhail takes a seat in his office chair, leaning back with an air of ease and confidence. He regards me carefully, dark eyes searching the details of my face. For what, I cannot tell. After a few moments of silent contemplation, he pats his knee—an invitation to sit. For the briefest second, I think against it. What if someone sees?
But my strength leaves me. I’m sodonewith today and his lap looks nice and warm and wouldn’t it be nice to be held, even for a little while?
He welcomes me with open arms, one hand braced gently on my hip as I sit across his lap. The warmth of his body soothes my nerves, helping me relax for the first time all day. Mikhail is surprisingly tender, gazing at me with such fondness I frankly don’t know what to do other than bask in his attention. He slowly drags the pad of his thumb across my cheek, his gaze flitting down to focus on my lips.
“What’s bothering you?” he asks gently. “Did something happen?”
“Charlotte and I had a fight,” I confess. “It was stupid.”
“Concerning what?”
I exhale heavily. “I didn’t want to go out to celebrate. She did. It kinda just spiraled, and I haven’t been home since.”
“Why didn’t you want to go out?”
I feel myself getting a touch annoyed at having to explain myself, but then I remember Mikhail doesn’t know. He doesn’t know about Mom or what happened to her or how I feel like absolute shit whenever my birthday rolls around. He waits, patient and still, like he knows not to apply any more pressure. I appreciate his diligence and care. It’s like he understands me better than I understand myself.
“She died when I was eighteen, my mom,” I mumble softly, resting my cheek against the slope of his shoulder. He absentmindedly plays with a lock of my hair, sweeping it away to get a better look at my face.
“What was her name?” he asks, a whisper.
“Nancy.”
“And your father?”
“No clue.”
Mikhail doesn’t seem surprised, but I’m too drained to think anything of it. He probably put everything together when he was looking at all the family photos at the apartment. It’s not exactly a grand mystery.
“Mom raised me all by herself,” I go on. “I never knew him. Never really knew what happened to him, either. She didn’t talk about him much. We got into fights about it often. We had an argument the day of my eighteenth, in fact.”
Mikhail furrows his brows. “What happened, Aurora?”
“She went out to pick up my cake. Even after all our shouting… I just wanted to know where he was. Since I was an adult, I thought I should have a right to know who my father is…” My breath comes out stuttered, the memory washing over me like a cold tidal wave. “Some asshole was driving while texting. Didn’t see the red light.” And then, impossibly quiet, “I’ve been alone ever since.”
