17. Nina
NINA
“The kind you’re going to hate,” I say.
Luka looks at me for a moment, then his mouth does that almost-smile thing that should be illegal in office lighting.
“I usually hate rules.”
“Perfect. This will be educational for you.”
“Go on,” he says.
I glance down the corridor before I answer. People are moving between offices, Meredith is at her desk, and the glass walls make everything feel too exposed.
“We keep this secret,” I say. “Completely. From the office, your security people, and Misha.”
His jaw tightens at my brother’s name.
“I mean it,” I add. “I need time to figure out how to tell him. Ideally, he never finds out at all.”
“That’s not realistic.”
“It’s my preferred option.”
“Misha will know eventually.”
“Maybe, but not now. He’s staying at my apartment, acting like someone is about to kick the door in, and I cannot add this to whatever is already going on with him.”
Luka’s expression narrows. “Did he say anything else?”
“No,” I say, trying not to think about the name I saw flashing on his phone yesterday.
A man from legal walks past us, and I immediately take a step back. Luka notices. His eyes drop to the space I put between us, then return to my face.
“That,” I say quietly, “is exactly why we need rules.”
He waits.
I grip my coffee cup even though it’s cold and disgusting. “If anyone here suspects I’m sleeping with you, it becomes the only thing people see when they look at me.”
His face stills.
“I’m serious, Luka. I’m at the beginning of my career.
I know people think of me as your assistant, but I don’t plan to remain someone’s assistant forever.
I understand this business. I know the deals, the investors, the internal politics, the people who talk too much and the people who matter.
I work hard because I want my own position, my own money, my own reputation. ”
“I know.”
“Then understand what happens if this gets out. You stay Luka Kazan. People whisper, then they go back to fearing you. I become the secretary sleeping with her boss.”
He says nothing, so I keep going.
“Every good idea I have becomes suspicious. Every meeting I attend becomes a favor. Every promotion I earn will look like something you handed me because of what happens behind closed doors. I can’t let that happen.”
His eyes stay on mine. For once, he does not interrupt or argue.
“So at work, we act normal,” I say. “No touching me in hallways. No pulling me into rooms. No looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you own me,” I say.
His mouth almost curves.
I point at him. “Exactly. That. Stop doing that.”
“I will try.”
“Try harder.”
“I said I will try.”
“With you, that means nothing.”
His expression turns more serious. “What else?”
“You don’t make decisions for me. No deciding what’s safe for me without speaking to me. You can warn me. You can tell me the truth. You cannot manage me like one of your companies.”
“I’m trying to keep you safe.”
“I know. But if your protection starts feeling like control, I will leave.”
His face hardens, but he nods once. “Fine.”
I blink. “Fine?”
“We keep this quiet. I don’t tell Misha. I don’t touch you at work unless you allow it. And I speak to you before making decisions that affect you.”
“That was very reasonable. I don’t trust it.”
“You should not.”
His gaze drops briefly to my mouth, and my pulse reacts before my brain can stop it.
I look away because this is exactly the problem.
And that’s also the other thing. Why was my brother talking to one of Luka’s sworn enemies?
I should tell him. After Alina’s Instagram and the man he recognized in the video, it might matter. But I only saw it for a second, and I had been upset enough to misread anything.
Luka notices the change in my face immediately. “What?”
“Nothing.”
I force myself to meet his gaze. “I was thinking about my brother. About the office. About the fact that we’re standing in the hallway having a conversation that could ruin my life if the wrong person overhears it.”
That’s not completely a lie.
Luka watches me for another second, and I can tell he doesn’t fully believe me. He does not push, though. Maybe because we are in the corridor. Maybe because he knows I’m already stretched thin.
“Fine,” he says. “We keep it secret.”
I stare at him, caught off guard by how easily he gives in. “Fine?”
“Yes.”
“You’re agreeing?”
“I understand why you want it.”
That answer is too reasonable. I don’t trust it.
His gaze stays on my face. “No one in the office will know. I will not tell Misha. I will not touch you at work unless you allow it.”
I lift an eyebrow.
He looks at me for a beat. “The closet was an exception.”
“The closet was a crime scene.”
“You participated.”
“Under duress.”
His mouth moves faintly. “You asked for me.”
My face gets hot. “Lower your voice.”
“Nobody heard.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Meredith may know.”
I close my eyes for half a second. “I’m going to resign again.”
“No.”
“See? This is why we need rules.”
He steps closer, then remembers himself and stops before there is anything obvious for someone to notice. That small restraint should not affect me, but it does. Last night he would have crowded me until I forgot every sensible thought in my head.
“I have one condition.”
I knew it.
“Of course you do.”
“I’m taking you to the gala this weekend.”
For a second, I think I’ve misheard him.
Then I realize I have not, because Luka looks completely serious.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Did you hear the last five minutes of this conversation?”
“Yes.”
“Then explain to me how taking me to a gala helps keep this secret.”
“You will attend as part of my executive staff.”
“That’s a very weak excuse.”
“It’s an excuse that works.”
“No, it doesn’t. Why me?”
“Because I want you there.”
My stomach does something stupid.
I ignore it.
“Take one of your girlfriends.”
His face changes at once. The shift is small but clear, like a door closing. “I’m not seeing anyone.”
I fold my arms. “You had an entire diary that says otherwise.”
“Burn it.”
I stare at him. “What?”
“The diary.”
“The diary that keeps your social life from becoming a public relations incident?”
“I don’t need it.”
“You absolutely need it. You don’t remember anyone’s preferences.”
“I remember yours.”
My mouth closes. That’s unfair. Also not the point.
“That diary has important notes,” I say.
“Then it’s served its purpose.”
“You’re being dramatic.”
“I’m ending a system I should have ended earlier.”
“You cannot decide that after one night.”
His brow rises slightly. “One night?”
My face heats. “Don’t start anything now.”
He holds out his hand. “Give it to me.”
“No.”
“Where is it?”
“My desk.”
“Get it.”
“This is absurd.”
“Yes.”
I should refuse. I know I should. The diary is mine, even if it’s about him. I made it because he made my job impossible, and because I was good enough to keep his chaos organized. Part of me wants to keep it out of spite.
Another part of me wants it gone.
I walk to my desk. Luka follows at a distance that looks professional only if nobody knows how he looks at me when he is trying not to touch me.
I unlock the drawer and take out the small black notebook.
For a moment, I hold it against my chest.
“This took work,” I say.
“I know.”
“No, you don’t. You forgot these women. I had to remember them.”
His face tightens. “I should not have made you do that.”
The apology is simple.
I hand him the diary before I change my mind. He opens it immediately.
“Don’t read it.”
“I’m reading it.”
“Luka.”
His eyes move over the first page. “You wrote that Chiara becomes dangerous when bored.”
“She does.”
“And Viktoria should never be seated near mirrors.”
“She ruined an entire dinner.”
He turns another page.
I step closer. “Enough.”
He keeps reading, then stops.
I know which page he has found.
It is the page that stopped being about his dates and became about him.
His tea. His coffee. His bad moods. The meetings he refuses to eat before. The cherry jam he says he dislikes but always eats when someone places it near him. His left hand tapping twice when he is impatient. His hatred of lilies. His habit of watching exits.
His eyes lift to mine.
“That was for work,” I say.
“No.”
“It started that way.”
“That, I believe.”
My face warms. “Give it back.”
“No. Come with me.”
“Where?”
“My office.”
“That’s not subtle.”
“Walk behind me.”
“I hate this.”
“No, you don’t.”
His office is empty when we enter. The legal papers from yesterday are gone. My resignation letter is gone too, since he turned it into pieces in my apartment like a lunatic with excellent tailoring.
Luka walks to the fireplace and presses a control near the mantle. Flames rise behind the glass.
I stare. “You have a working fireplace in your office?”
“Yes.”
“Of course you do.”
He holds the diary near the fire.
“You are not actually doing this,” I say.
“I am.”
“It contains information.”
“Information I no longer want you to maintain.”
“It also proves I was good at my job.”
He turns to me. “You don’t need that diary to prove that.”
I go quiet.
“You are good at your job because you are good,” he says. “Not because you remembered what flowers to send women I should never have asked you to manage.”
My throat tightens.
“I’m sorry, Nina,” he says.
He opens the glass.
For a second, I think I will stop him. Then I think of every name inside that notebook, every dinner, every message, every time I told myself I was only irritated when I was actually jealous.
“Fine,” I say. “Burn it.”
He drops the diary into the flames.
The cover catches first. Then the pages begin to curl. I watch my handwriting disappear, and I feel ridiculous for being emotional about a notebook. It held months of work, but it also held months of humiliation.
When the last visible page blackens, Luka closes the glass.
I say, “You just destroyed my administrative labor.”
“I’ll compensate you.”
“That was not an invoice.”
“Then come to the gala.”
I look at him. “That is not how negotiations work.”
“It is how this one works.”
“You really want me there?”
“Yes.”
“As staff?”
His gaze stays on mine. “As you.”
That answer makes the room feel too small.
My phone buzzes.
Misha’s name appears on the screen.
I silence it quickly, but Luka notices.
“He will ask where you are,” he says.
“I’ll tell him I had work.”
“That is true.”
I look at the fireplace, where the diary is now ash.
“Yes,” I say. “For once.”