Chapter 02

Mary

I grabbed my bag and went to get the coffee,

following the corridors full of prying eyes towards me.  I started hitting my feet impatiently while waiting for the elevator, thinking about what would wait for me from now on.

Pyotr Rozanov, however, doesn't seem to be so bad. I meaning, Sometimes that Russian accent proves difficult to understand and he knows to be annoying, but he is still better than Stan Smith.

Stan is the editor-in-chief of Politics magazine at Navruz Publications, he worked on the thirteenth floor and was a real pain in the ass.

The last time I came back from college vacation, my dad decided I'd follow that week's development. I managed to get fired by Stan the first day without even being hired. If I had to work for him, it was possible that I'd give up my career.

"You know, that noise is very annoying” The blonde receptionist who was sitting at the table in front of the elevator commented.

"I'm sorry," I stopped.

"My name is Halley Dawson," she stood up and came toward me, reaching out “I am the receptionist on the floor.”

I watched her for a moment, she was lower than me, wore a red social dress, black Scarpins and had well-treated smooth blonde hair.

" Mary Navruz” I shook her hand, offering a quick smile “The Russian's grumpy assistant.”

" Navruz? " The girl has wide her eyes. I don't remember seeing her last week “How...”

"Omar and Elena Navruz," I confirmed their suspicions, "They are my parents.”

"What are you doing here?” She asked shocked.

Behind me the elevator door opened.

"Working” I frowned.

Didn't I just explain that I'm Pyotr's new assistant?

"Why? "She insisted as I entered the elevator in a distracted way.

"What else could I do after I graduated? "I shrugged.

The elevator door closed with the girl outside staring at me in horror. Do people really think that because my parents are rich, I don't have to work hard to do anything? I understand my mother's point of view, she's right after all.

I got the coffee for my boss and bought a cheesecake for myself, going back to the office in a few minutes. I waved as I passed Halley, getting a smile in return and marched straight to the office.

"Here's your coffee Mr Rozanov," I said in an ironic tone, "White Mocha.”

"And what is that? "He pointed to the little box in my hand.

"That's my reward," I smiled, blinking an eye at him before Turning to begin my work.

" Marianne? "He called.

"Mary... I hate being called Marianne" I moaned turning to him.

"I asked without whipped cream" he pointed the paper cup open.

Damn it, Mary, why do you always forget those details?

"It's not hard to take away," I approached the table," you're not going to make me go back there and change, are you?”

"Bringing me a coffee shouldn't be a difficult task," I saw a glow in your eyes.

He's having fun torturing me!

"I forgot to ask then not to put the whipped cream, that's all” I justified myself “Besides, whipped cream is delicious, why don't you try it?”

Pyotr merely raised an eyebrow, as if I were being ridiculous, still looking into my eyes.

"Okay, if you really want it, I'll take it off" I declared putting my cheesecake on the table, opening the package and removing the spoon from there.

He didn't unstick his eyes from me when I leaned on the table, removing all the whipped cream with the spoon and putting it on top of the cake, trying to look intimidating while maintaining eye contact.

"Happy? "I asked emphatically, licking the spoon.

"Very much," the man smiled before I straightened myself.

If he didn't bother me so much in the first hour of work, I might even consider him sexy with that social outfit, neat hair and recently groomed beard. But I was too angry for it at the time.

"I hope next time you remember to order without the whipped cream, Marianne.

"I'll be at my desk if you need me," I murmured feeling like turning the cup of coffee over your head.

Despite our clash for the coffee, the rest of the day was peaceful. Pyotr explained to me what I was supposed to do, and it was a lot. He had been without a personal assistant for some time and was trying to organize everything himself, which left everything a complete mess.

When I went home at the end of the day, I felt exhausted. I got out of the cab just wanting to take a shower and lie down. I had moved back in with my parents since I graduated, even though I planned to move soon. I crossed the hall, following the sound of a animated conversation between the two, meeting them in the kitchen, discussing some release.

I loved that place, the straight-line black cabinets contrasted with the light room, giving the place an air of sophistication that only one of New York's best interior designers could afford.

And he got a lot for the design of that house.

"How was the day, Mary? " Omar smiled when he saw me.

"Horrible" I moaned, throwing myself into a chair  “That guy is crazy!”

" Want to hear something really crazy? Your mother made dinner tonight” He stared at me with a fun glow in his eyes.

Sometimes it was strange to see my father so comfortable. On a day-to-day high, he was extravagant in his extremely formal clothes. But today he was wearing a white shirt with the first buttons open, and I could see the red tie full of patterns that he wore earlier thrown on the table.

"Besides working like crazy I will not have anything to eat? "I have complained, getting a frowning look from my mother “You must tell me why you are you punishing me.”

"Don't be overblown," my mother rolled her eyes  “I'm making a roast meat, it's not a sophisticated thing.”

"It doesn't change the fact that they put me to work with a madman," I muttered.

"I've been a personal assistant for a long time Marianne," my mother declared, "It'll be good for you.”

"I doubt your boss was crazy," I hit back.

"Your father looked like an incarnate demon," she cast a look at me with sympathy, “and yet we got it right and created a great company together.”

"That wasn't very flattering," my father protested.

"Sometimes I forget you were his assistant," I sighed, “but I still can't imagine him that way.”

"Thank you!”

"Everyone ran away when they realized he was in a bad mood," my mother ignored him, "But with our coexistence, I learned to deal with it.”

"Now everyone runs away when they see you," I pointed out.

"That's not true!” She exclaimed.

"Of course it is," Omar provoked, "That's why you only show up at Navruz when we have a problem.”

"As if you needed my help to solve problems," she smiled.

My father seemed about to respond when the sound of my cell phone interrupted the conversation. As soon as I read the name on the caller ID I moaned, resting my forehead on the table.

"I was with him an hour ago," I cried, "What might he want that can't wait until tomorrow?

"Welcome to the real world, dear," Omar laughed.

"Meet your boss Mary," my mother got up by following the oven, “if he's calling, it's because it's important.”

Looks like this is going to be my life from now on.