Russian literature, and it’s dense, complex, and full of tragic characters. I tried watching some Russian TV shows on Netflix, but I didn’t click with them the same way I did with the novels.
“Complex,” he says. “They can be emotional, not cold as they are portrayed. In fact, I would say they can be too emotional. Many don’t analyze things the same as they do in the West. Or, this is my perception at least, they can be envious. There was a saying in the village where I grew up: the tallest blade of grass is the first cut by the scythe. They didn’t like people getting above their station. On the other hand, they would do anything to help a friend. They’d share their last crust of bread. They are poetic, literature lovers. Even my family, who were poor, they read great literature and talked about things like the meaning of life, so different to here, where people talk about pointless gossip and what latest gadget they want to buy.”
Him talking about his homeland makes me smile because he’s probably not aware of it, but his wording becomes more like a Russian speaking English. Often, he speaks very good English and even uses Brit phrases, so it’s mainly his accent that gives him away, but sometimes, like now, or when we talked about Russian literature in the coffee shop, the rhythm of his words, the cadence of his speech, it sounds more Russian.
“Not all people here are like that,” I say softly.
He fixes me with his blue-gray gaze. “No not all people,” he agrees.
“Anyway, you asked about the role,” he says. “Come, let me show you to your new office. This will be your home for the next two to three weeks. You can tell Suzy and anyone else who asks that you’re working on some sensitive information for me. That’s what I’ll be telling my managers, okay?”
I nod.
“Good, come.” He walks by me to the door, holds it open for me, and follows me out of the room.
As I pass right by him to get out the door, I inhale his delicious scent. It’s deep and sensual, a bit like him. I shake my head and tell myself to stop this silly crush behavior.
We get to the room I’ll be using, and I stare in disbelief when he opens the door for me. I was expecting a glorified stock room, but this is plush. This has to be a management office, surely?
“Is there a mistake?” I ask, dumbfounded. “This is better than your office.”
“Mine is temporary and part-time. I’ll be spending plenty of my work hours at my main building. I don’t need something fancy here. You’re doing important work for me, private work. This office has a lock on the door, see.”
He points to the door where there is indeed a lock.
“Use it,” he says gravely. “Don’t let anyone in unless they knock, and you’ve hidden what you’re working on.”
God, what have I gotten myself into here?
He pulls out a chair for me behind the desk and motions for me to sit. The chair faces the window in the door, so I can see who is there if anyone knocks. Behind me is a large expanse of glass and an impressive view of London. The chair is leather, big, and comfortable. My back will like this office a lot, I think.
It strikes me as incongruous that someone as wealthy as Konstantin, with a company worth a fortune, and yes, I looked it up, works from an office in Camden.
“How come your company headquarters are in Camden and not somewhere like this?” I ask.
“Have you seen my offices there?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“I’ll take you one day. They’re impressive. I had them designed by a top eco-architect. They’re one of the greenest office spaces in the world. They’re also beautiful. As for why there and not here. Here is soulless, no?”
I look behind me out the window. It is kind of soulless. Looking back at him, I nod.
“There is full of life. Inside the office we work hard, we make deals, we do the corporate slog hour in and hour out, and then I go out of the office and walk past small stores, tattoo parlors, barbers. I see people walking their dogs, girls with green hair, pretty baristas who remind me of the sun.”
I gasp at his words and try to cover it up by letting out a small cough, but he catches it because he smirks.
“I