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As if I needed any more of that.
105
PAIGE
Rose stands on the other side of my desk at the ready. Waiting for me to accidentally drop a pencil. For my phone to ring. For a pile of papers to shift just enough that she can lunge forward and straighten it.
At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if she wiped my nose for me.
“Can I get you anything else, Miss Paige?”
She only calls me “Miss Paige,” which is odd. Everyone else refers to me as “Mrs. Orlov” now, no doubt on Misha’s very strict orders. Correcting her feels like an unnecessarily aggressive move, considering it’s her first day, though.
“No, that’s okay. You can head out for the day if you’d like. I’m almost done here.”
It’s not really a suggestion. If she doesn’t like it, I’ll force her out. I need to be alone.
Misha wasn’t wrong; Rose is a great assistant. I loved having her around for the first hours or two of the day. Then I caught her in the right light and realized why she seemed so familiar.
It’s because I see her face in the mirror every morning.
We could be twins. Now, when I look at her, all I see is Misha. Probably laughing to himself in his office, thrilled by his funny, funny, oh-so funny joke.
“If you’re sure.” She bends over to grab her purse from the floor. “Do you need me to drop anything off at the office on my way home?”
“These files.” I hand them to her, and she slides them into her bag. “But you can stop at the office tomorrow morning before coming here. No need to make a special trip tonight.”
She nods. “Will do.”
When I hear a knock on the door, I assume it’s Rada with my evening tea. Instead, Misha walks in. He’s dressed in a dark suit and dripping with swagger.
Rose straightens immediately and offers him a pleasant, professional smile that nonetheless irks the hell out of me. “Good evening, sir.”
“Good evening, Rose.” He turns to me. “How is everything?”
“Fine,” I bite out. “Rose, you should get going or you’ll get stuck in traffic.”
If she is put off by my sharp dismissal, she doesn’t show it. Rose nods in my direction and gives Misha another smile before she heads for the door.
Misha glances her way for only a second—maybe half a second—and yet it bothers me. Why does he need to look at her at all?
“Is she supposed to be some kind of threat?” I demand the moment she is out of the room.
He raises one dark eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
I walk around my desk to stand in front of him. My small baby bump isn’t exactly intimidating, but I stretch onto my toes. “Like, some sort of passive aggressive warning? ‘Give in to me or I’ll replace you with a clone’?”
“Paige, you’ll have to start making sense if you expect me to participate in this conversation.”
I grit my teeth. “She looks just like me, Misha.”
He taps his chin like the realization just occurred to him. I know it’s bullshit. He notices everything. “The two of you do share a subtle resemblance to one another, now that you point it out.”
“There’s nothing subtle about her being my carbon copy. We even have the same haircut!”
“What a strange coincidence.”
I narrow my eyes at him. I’m very aware that I sound completely paranoid. But I’m also aware that Misha is the exact kind of man to pull a stunt like this.
