Chapter 31 #2
“I wasn’t,” I lie. “I was defending my interior design choices. I like pink rocket ships and stuffed toys.”
Her lips twitch. “You’re really something, Viktor.”
I grunt and reach down, picking up the rhino I bought for Sofia. I set it back on top of the gun safe.
Avelina kneels to fix the tipped over dinosaur bucket. “Thank you,” she says, her voice quiet but sincere.
As I look at her, I don’t say the words, but I think them: You’re safe with me.
And it’s like she can understand me. Because she gazes at me—and this time, her eyes seem to shine for a different reason.
That afternoon, the scent of gunpowder fills the warehouse as Grigory and I stand over a pallet of sealed canisters while our men cross-reference the invoices.
“So, she’s touching your paperwork, huh?” he comments. “Didn’t think I’d see the day anyone got to touch your holy Excel sheets.”
“Funny,” I growl.
“Oh, it wasn’t a joke.” He’s still not letting the whole office thing go, and he keeps glancing at me with a look of disbelief in his eyes.
“She’s competent enough,” I tell him.
Grigory lets out a huff. “That’s what you’re going with? What if she messes something up?”
I shrug. “You worry too much.”
“No, that’s you, Viktor.”
“It’s going to be fine,” I say, trying to make my voice firm.
“I’ll remind you of that when she disrupts your fucking temple of precision and order.”
“She won’t,” I grit out. Except…she already has. Because she’s turned my whole world upside down.
“Uh-huh,” he mutters in a know-it-all voice.
I narrow my eyes at Grigory. “What?”
“Just saying, if she messes up, don’t come crying to me.”
“Have I ever?” I growl.
Grigory nods toward the crates of canisters. “Just make sure she doesn’t stumble into anything she shouldn’t.”
“I’m not an idiot.”
He looks at me carefully. “No. But you’ve been a bit off lately.”
“What, because I’ve been polite to her?”
“That’s not what I’m talking about.”
I clench my jaw. I know he’s right, but I don’t want to admit it out loud. I shift whenever she’s near. Everyone’s noticed. And my outburst with the men who badmouthed her? That got around too. “It’ll all be fine.”
Grigory snorts, and I can tell that he thinks he’ll be saying ‘I told you so’ at some point.
But I shake it off. I mean, how much damage can one woman really do?
I should be thinking about next delivery dates. But instead, I picture Avelina, her beautiful green eyes gazing in concentration as her fingers dance across my laptop…and then dance across my body like they did the other night. A small cough escapes me as I try to clear my thoughts.
“What?” Grigory asks with a suspicious look at me.
“Nothing,” I huff.
Grigory raises an eyebrow but thankfully says nothing further as he leaves me to it, telling me he’ll see me back at the Kremlin.
I return to the office a couple of hours later.
The warehouse inspection was a fucking disaster. Half the rifles were mislabeled, the manifest didn’t match the inventory, and some genius managed to store grenades next to a wall heater. I spent the last hour yelling at men who shouldn’t be trusted with crayons, let alone goddamn explosives.
My shirt smells like gun oil, and my headache is drumming out its very own heartbeat. I just want silence, caffeine, and order. And I need some calm after this shitshow of a day.
When I step into the office, Avelina isn’t at the desk, but the pile of invoices looks much smaller, so she’s making good progress. And she’s looking more confident than when she started on this earlier.
Matvey and Nikolai are tapping away at their laptops. Well, Matvey is. Nikolai is more likely watching porn or up to something else he shouldn’t be doing.
I turn toward my desk.
But then I stop dead.
And blink slowly.
Then blink more rapidly.
But I still can’t actually believe my eyes.
Jesus. Fucking. Christ.
Because my spreadsheets have been…defiled. That’s the only goddamn word for it. Because my immaculate spreadsheet is now a rainbow-colored fucking circus. Bold letters. Gradient columns. Lurid colors. Empty cells that have smiley emojis.
I’m frozen. Unable to move an inch.
Pink. Neon green. Purple headers. And sparkles—where the hell did they come from? Then there’s a cupcake emoji next to ‘Bribery Totals’ and a goddamn glittery heart beside ‘Explosives Budget.’ What the actual fuck?
Gone is the clean, black-and-white efficiency of my inventory and logistics. In its place? A fucking multi-colored nightmare. I blink hard, as if that might magically fix it.
“What the hell is this?” I roar, my voice bouncing off the bulletproof glass of the windows.
Nikolai’s snort echoes from across the room. “Oh no,” he says, nudging Matvey. “He found the sparkle sheets.” The asshole doesn’t even try to hide his guffaw of laughter. “Told you it’d give him an ulcer.”
I stomp over, glaring at both of them. “Which one of you idiots did this? Was it a dare? Are you fucking twelve or something?”
“I wish I were that creative,” Nikolai drawls. “But nope, wasn’t me.
Matvey raises both his hands in front of himself. “And it definitely wasn’t me. I’m too busy for shit like that.”
“Then who the hell thought it was a good idea to turn my quarterly accounts into a goddamn kindergarten art project?”
And then…she appears. Avelina. She glides in like she’s floating on a fluffy cloud.
“Oh, hey!” she trills.
I can’t speak. My eyes dart up and down as they frantically scan the spreadsheet.
“Don’t worry, I didn’t touch the formulae,” she says, noticing my expression. “I triple-checked, and they’re still all the same as before.”
“Okay. But…um, the colors?” I manage to finally croak.
She blushes, looking a little embarrassed, and shrugs a little. “The colors just make me feel happier, you know? I looked up online how to do a few different things.”
My jaw drops. Oh, please no, no, no…
Matvey coughs into his hand, definitely laughing. And Nikolai, the fucker, actually starts wheezing.
My eye twitches. “I—We don’t… This is a business enterprise,” I stutter. Why the hell am I suddenly sounding exactly like Grigory did this morning?
But I know why. It’s because it’s unexpected.
Although having the toys in here feels messy and chaotic, I was able to prepare myself for it before it happened.
But this spreadsheet mayhem has just been sprung on me from out of nowhere.
Christ, Grigory was right all along. This was a fucking bad idea.
Her smile doesn’t falter. “I know. And that’s exactly the reason why it needs to all be a bit more cheerful, don’t you think?”
I want to fire someone.
Or kill someone.
But not her. Never her. She stands there in her favorite yellow dress, holding a mug with a rainbow on it—where the hell did that come from?
She’s also made herself a lanyard with a glittery unicorn charm.
Why does she look like she just came from hugging a rescue puppy?
And why does she look so utterly beautiful?
I glance up to see the other guys closely watching me. Matvey is barely holding it together behind his monitor. Nikolai isn’t even pretending to.
I stare at her. I should tell her to change it all back.
I want to blurt out those exact words. My eyes drop back down to the screen.
Those bright colors make my brain scream.
It’s not her fault—I haven’t told her about how bright colors overstimulate me.
Sofia doesn’t seem as bothered by bright colors, but that isn’t totally surprising because autism affects each person differently.
I try to slow down my rapid breathing. “Why, er, do the blank columns all have smiley faces?”
Nikolai is choking now. Fucking smug bastard.
She gives a small grin. “I just thought it looked more jolly.” Her face falls a tiny bit. “But I can change it back if you don’t like it.” Her words come out in a rush. “Oh God, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have interfered—”
“No.” I cut her off. “Keep it like that.” I don’t know what makes me say this, but maybe it’s because it’s a piece of her. And because there’s warmth there.
“Really?” she murmurs.
“Really,” I manage.
Her smile is suddenly blinding, and it makes my heart soar.
And I realize something. These colors and other things make her happy, and her being happy kinda makes me happy too… “But maybe you could adjust the screen brightness?” I suggest slowly.
“Oh, sure!” She taps a key to dim the screen. “And I’ve made a backup version without all the colors and gradients—just in case you prefer that when you need to use the spreadsheet.”
And at her thoughtfulness, that warm feeling deepens.
“You’re really okay with this, Viktor?”
And she’s still smiling at me. And something about that smile makes it seem like she personally invented sunshine. And I don’t want that smile to disappear.
So, I say nothing.
I sigh. I’m in trouble. So much trouble.
The following day, I make my way to the office, telling myself that my day can’t get any worse.
Things haven’t been going well this morning. More fucking warehouse issues. Inventory errors. Phone calls from people who apparently lost their brains overnight. My patience is already at zero, and it’s barely fucking noon.
Babulya just told me that Avelina has been upstairs for the last fifty minutes, trying to get Leon down for his nap. And stomping to the office door, I fling it open, hoping to find some calm and peace.
And I’m certainly not expecting the sight that greets me.
Because in front of me are Queenie and Albert.
Dressed up in glittery pink capes.
I blink. Once. Twice. Why the hell are my animals dressed up like that?
Matvey and Nikolai are frozen at their desks, eyes wider than deer who know a hunter’s spotted them.
“Is this your idea of a joke?” I bark, my voice sharp as a deadly dagger.
Because I know Avelina was the one responsible for the travesty with my spreadsheets, but I can’t see her doing this to the pets.
And that means the culprit is one of the men.
And they’re totally capable of pulling a dumb stunt like this.
“Not mine,” Nikolai mutters darkly. “We’re supposed to be running an operation, not a—”
“A fairy princess pet parade,” Matvey finishes under his breath, rubbing his temples.
Queenie yawns, stretching her paw like she’s been on a catwalk all morning. Albert, meanwhile, is chasing his own tail, the sparkly cape fluttering like a flag of surrender.
My scowl deepens.
Then a tiny, rapid patter of footsteps.
“She’ll explain,” Matvey grits out, pointing toward the hallway like a man sending me to my doom.
I turn just as Sofia bursts in, a fairy wand in one hand and a bag of pet treats in the other, her little face lit up.
“Do you like their makeover, Viktor?” she chirps, all innocence.
My jaw ticks.
My temple pulses.
My instincts say run.
“They’re superheroes,” she announces in her sweet voice. “They’re going to help you with your work today.”
My brow furrows as I try not to grimace. They look nothing like superheroes to me. The cat can barely keep her eyes open as per usual, and the dog is still chasing his tail in useless circles before colliding with the plant stand and sending Grigory’s favorite plant crashing to the ground.
“And what are they busy saving the world from?” Nikolai mutters under his breath. “Glitter? The color pink? Too much cutesy fucking nonsense? And what the hell will our rivals fucking think if they see we’ve got pets like this?”
Thankfully, Sofia doesn’t hear his complaints and cussing as she goes and kneels next to the animals. “The doggy and kitty cat were waiting for you, Viktor. They want to help you with your work today.”
I know I was okay about the toys in the office, but that’s because my brain had a little while to get used to the idea. But these animal outfits have been sprung on me. I know it’s not Sofia’s fault, and I tell myself to stay calm. Viktor, this is just an adjustment your brain needs to make…
But I swallow hard as I stare at the ridiculous capes.
This is not my life.
This is not my office.
And yet…
I gaze at the tiny person beside me. And clear my throat. “Have they, er, ever saved the world from an evil computer program?”
Sofia giggles so hard she tips sideways. “No!”
I find some extra chairs to set around my desk.
And scooping one animal under each arm, not caring about their fur getting on my immaculate black suit, I sit them behind my desk like they’re my new business partners before adding a chair for Sofia.
Because I don’t want to disappoint her. And I don’t want to break her heart.
And ten minutes later, we’re all playing a computer game together. Although Queenie has fallen asleep, and Albert is too busy snuffling his way through the bag of pet treats to be any real help.
Maybe I used to live for silence and control.
Now I’m babysitting among glittery animals and a cute six-year-old.
And for the first time ever, I don’t want the chaos to end.