Page 72 of Hate to Love You
I quickly transfer him through to Roman, as I lean back into my chair, straining my ears trying to hear their conversation.
I could pick up the phone here, and listen in as he is on the open connection to my desk…My fingers twitch to reach out to the receiver, my decision made as I reach for it—
Suddenly Roman’s door flies open, “Abigail! Come here!”
Flying from my desk, I stride quickly toward his office, finding him slouched back down on his chair, the phone still to his ear.
“Hello, my friend, what can I do for you?” He asks, his hand tugging through his hair. “He said what? No. That’s not correct, hold on for one second.” He suddenly looks up from his desk at me.
“Abigail, get hold of Oleg for me. Tell him to get his ass up to my office. Now!”
The blood in my veins freezes instantly.
Oleg? As in Igor Ivanov’s Oleg? God damn it.
“Yes Sir, anything else?”
“No, get out, Abigail. And while you’re at it, go find a new skirt.” As I stand there, just staring at him, he shakes his head and returns to his phone call. “Nah man, she only started this week. Doesn’t know how to dress appropriately…Oh shut it Pace…”
Despite his cold demeanor I can’t help but admire him, sitting here, his jaw tensing. He swipes a black stress ball from off the top of his desk and squeezes, the muscles in his arm flexing, further accentuating the veins in his wrist.
“Abigail?”
Roman’s voice suddenly snaps me out of my trance and my heart lurches.
“What the fuck are you doing? Get out.”
“Yes!” I squeak in response, darting out of his office.
Such a prick.
I’ve been staring at the number for Oleg Mikhailov for fifteen minutes, but lacking the courage to actually dial it.
Get over it Abby, he won’t recognize you.
I push my shoulders back, straightening in my chair and pick up the phone, dialing through to his office.
He answers on the third ring.
“Hello,” he says, his voice sounds exactly as I remember from the club, confirming that it’s him.
“Mr. Antonov wants you in his office.”
“Can it wait? I’m just about to head into a meeting,” he sighs, “Did he say what it was about?”
My head tilts back against the chair headrest, as I quickly consider what to say.
“He can wait right? This meeting is with the shareholders for the charity fundraiser, this was the only time I could schedule this meeting! Especially with him asking me to babysit his sister after Igor died,” he rambles on, my eyes fall closed as I continue to listen to him, the pitch of his voice increasing with each word he says. “She’s crazy, you know? Still thinks it was a murder, and she’s determined to find out who did it.”
My eyes fly open as I’m immediately pulled back into this conversation.
Oleg is a very chatty individual, considering he has no idea who I am.
I resist asking him for more information.
Surely a personal assistant could be a bit nosey?
After all, I’ve seen all the women downstairs, walking around in packs, gossiping among themselves about everything. In fact, I haven’t seen a single woman alone in this building since I arrived.