13. Chapter Thirteen #3
Unlike the rest of the house, which features modern black and white tones, Sergei’s office has a more traditional, timeless vibe. The walls are adorned with captivating fall forest canvases, each capturing the vibrant reds, oranges, and yellows of fall foliage.
In the center of the room stands a large table, its dark wood bearing the marks of time and use, adding a sense of history and character to the space.
A single chair sits between the table and the bookcases, strategically positioned to offer a view of the expansive windows that stretch from ceiling to floor.
“Focus,” I scold myself, realizing I don’t have the luxury to stand around and admire the room. Trying to ignore the Mission Impossible theme song playing in my head, I walk carefully, as if afraid to leave a footprint on the marble floors.
When I reach the laptop, I retrieve the UFED from my bra.
I might have pockets, but I’ve always wanted to use this covert spot for a moment like this.
A mischievous smile curves my lips at the thought.
Turning the device on, I wait for it to shift from bright orange to green as I place it near the laptop.
The seconds stretch, and I get increasingly frustrated by the imagined sound of footsteps in the hallway.
“Calm down,” I remind myself. “There’s no one here but you.” Counting slowly, I try to steady my nerves.
While I wait, I walk to admire the most luxurious rug I’ve ever seen, spreading high and wide on one of the walls.
Predominantly maroon, it’s designed with intricate white and dark green circles and shapes.
Placing a rug like this on the floor, where people tread, would be sacrilege.
Such an artistic masterpiece deserves to be proudly displayed for all to admire.
Did Sergei prefer to keep this sentimental aspect to himself, or was it Alessia who didn’t want it to clash with the modern design of the rest of the apartment?
Turning around from the rug, I examine the bookcases filled with an impressive collection of old-looking books, their spines ornamented with the Cyrillic alphabet.
The scent of aged paper mingles with the gentle aroma of cleaning supplies, recently used by the cleaning staff.
A handful of model airplanes are proudly placed on the shelves, adding another touch of Sergei’s personality to the room.
“What are you doing?” Pavel’s heavily accented voice startles me as his large figure appears in the doorway. I silently curse the no-shoes policy for making it impossible to hear him approach.
“Oh, my goodness, Pavel!” My heart pounds so hard it could burst. I will my eyes not to betray me, because if I glance at the laptop, Pavel will spot the UFED lying nearby. Instead, I focus directly on him. “You scared me!” Nervous laughter escapes me, but he remains silent, watching.
“I was planning to work on some arts and crafts with Misha tomorrow and ran out of paper,” I explain. “I thought Sergei might have some in here, but I don’t see any.” I lift my hands, theatrically signaling my cluelessness, proud of how quickly my mind has spun a semi-coherent excuse.
Nailed it.
Again, he says nothing, just stares me down with his dark brown, almost black eyes. The scar on his face is a visible reminder that he’s dangerous. This is Sergei’s right-hand man, chauffeur, bodyguard—and all-encompassing protector. And I’m someone he needs to protect Sergei from.
I audibly swallow.
He walks inside the room, heading straight for the printer in the corner. It takes him only a moment to pick up a stack of papers. I seize that opportunity to slip the UFED from the laptop, hoping it has had enough time to sync.
Trying to distance myself from the laptop as much as physically possible, I rush toward Pavel, shoving the small device between my boobs. He turns while I’m still adjusting my bra, raising a questioning eyebrow.
A nervous, toothy smile spreads on my face, the anxiety prickling over my skin. “Don’t you just hate it when the underwire digs into your skin?”
Without saying anything, he offers me a stack of papers. I reach for it with my left hand, but Pavel keeps a firm hold.
“Thank you,” I say, forcing a smile.
His eyes lift to meet mine, and after the longest three seconds of my life, he finally releases the papers, allowing me to pull them close to my chest.
“I’m going to have him draw farm animals. I’m starting to do themes for every week, and next week’s topic will be the farm,” I babble so quickly, my mouth barely keeps up with my brain. “I can show you his drawing after we’re done. Have you ever been to one? What’s your favorite animal?”
“To eat?” he asks.
The most anxious chuckle leaves my lips.
I continue to laugh awkwardly as I hurry out of the office with Pavel’s glare glued to my back.
“Thanks for your help!” I call out, slipping inside my bedroom.
I glance back to find him standing still in the doorway, his eyes narrowed and lips tight.
There’s no language barrier when it comes to understanding exactly what he’s thinking.