Prologue

 

Mia

 

I want to leap up from my uncomfortable office chair and ask my cube neighbors what they think of the job offer I’m staring at on my computer screen. The late afternoon sunlight is raking in from between the slats of the industrial blinds and casting shadows that look vaguely like prison bars across my screen.

And maybe I want to brag a little too because, well, I’m used to not being seen. Or maybe that’s the wrong word. I get looked at plenty, just mostly in a way that makes me uncomfortable. As if having D cups means my brain had to sacrifice processing power in order to generate cleavage. If I remember high school biology correctly both areas require fat but completely different kinds.

Instead, I hold my excitement in (barely) even though I can feel my body quivering with repressed emotion. The office is mostly quiet. A few phone calls emanate from cubicles and the quiet hum of the copier is generating white noise down the hall. It’s that mood of being at work and not wanting to really do any work. And based on the lethargic movements of my nearest neighbors, I’d say the feeling is fairly widespread. The only thing holding me back from replying with Yes! Yes! Yes! to the email is the man sitting in the adjacent office. With his head held level, he’s focusing on a computer screen like it holds the answers to everything in life. Alexei. He’s not suffering from the late afternoon sludge. But then he never does.

He’s not my boss. But he is the guy in charge of this small Sarasota office. I think it might be the smallest regional office of ACI. How Alexei ended up here nobody seems to know because he is clearly not small regional office material. He has high-ranking military written all over him. But he’s really sweet. And he’s looked out for me since my first day here.

When Alexei noticed how random men were stopping by my cube and leaning over the short beige walls (trying to stare down my cleavage), he asked me if it was okay if he moved me to the back corner. That way, those guys would have to walk past his office door before they got to my desk.

I said yes to that before he’d even finished his sentence. I get a lot more work done back here and the fact that when I tilt my head far enough to see over the cubicle wall, I get to see Alexei’s profile isn’t exactly a downside. He’s gorgeous. Dark, almost black, hair that he keeps short and these mossy green eyes that make me think of ferns. And then there’s that cleft in his chin. I get wet if I stare at it too long, so I try to focus on his left ear instead, which probably comes across as a little strange. Not as weird as actively panting though, so there’s that.

His first name and his mother are Russian, and he got the cheekbones too. But everything else about him is pure American military. By the book, honor, integrity, and all the rest of it. What he’s doing in Sarasota, I’m not entirely sure. He’s not technically an office manager, even post-military. His title is something like Director of Project Operations. He spends a lot of time on his computer and he never leaves his office unattended without locking his laptop in the desk and dead-bolting the door behind him.

Which seems a bit overkill, but there are some super top secret projects in the company, so it probably has something to do with that kind of thing. And that’s all I really know. Oh, and that he’s forty-two, not married, and lives in a high-rise condo that he’s not particularly fond of. That last little tidbit I got out of him last week when I dared ask him about his weekend when we crossed paths in the break room. I’ve hugged those personal little details to my heart ever since. If he knows I have a crush on him, he hasn’t let on. But he’s genuinely a kind man, so he probably wouldn’t want to embarrass me unless he felt he had to for some reason.

I’ve been here almost exactly two years. I love my job, but I’m not sure Florida is for me. Not that there’s anything wrong with it exactly. It’s just that the cute little outfits the other women in the office wear to accommodate the heat, little business casual tanks with tiny sparkly beads and short flirty skirts, make me look like a slob. Or like I’m trying to gain the kind of attention that those idiots were offering when they kept hanging on my cube. It’s a lot of work trying to find things that are suitable for the climate and still somewhat professional.

The job offer I’m still staring at is from my friend Sarah in Washington State at the Sala Bay office. I can wear sweaters again there. All year round from the sounds of things. Hearing the groan of the air conditioning kick on again as it tries to combat the sunshine sneaking in the blinds makes me salivate at the thought of cold rainy weather. It sounds absolutely delicious.

My job is mostly about sourcing fish. Sounds weird, I know. But the animal employees are a growing area of Alpha Corps’ R&D department and they need to eat. And that food needs to stay fresh and also be available when they travel. So that’s where I come in. Need to feed three trained sea lions for a month in Kuwait? I’ve got you covered — complete with the generator-powered refrigerator truck because there probably isn’t a local power source close enough to the beach or dock. It’s fun and challenging and I get to talk to people all over the world. I can now say ‘tilapia’ in ten different languages. Try bringing that out at a holiday party when you don’t want to talk to someone. Works like a charm.

Sarah is a marine biologist and one of my primary human customers. We’ve never actually met in person, but we talk on the phone at least two or three times a week. She’s a riot. And this job would be keeping my existing duties as is but adding in an additional special project working with Sarah that she just got approved. Since my technical boss is in Virginia anyway, he doesn’t really care what office I work out of as long as I get the job done. It’s just… Alexei. I sigh with longing and frustration. I don’t want to give up on the dream, even if I know the odds are not in my favor.

If I move, I’m leaving behind any hope that he’ll ever ramp up the kindness I see in his green eyes to something more. Even if it seems unlikely, a chunk of my heart keeps hoping. Because he seems lonely. He comes in early and stays late. There are no personal photos on his desk and he hasn’t taken a single day of vacation while I’ve been here. Of course he’s never said he’s lonely, and he doesn’t hang out and chat with people in the break room. He just… works.

I want to ask him if I should take the job, mostly to see if he has any reaction at all, but what can I say if he asks why I’m asking him? I’ll blush and then if he doesn’t know already he’ll definitely know then how I feel about him. I need to give Sarah an answer by tomorrow, so I guess I can sleep on it and see if I have any new insights between now and then.

Leaning back in my chair, I twist my fingers through my brown curls. I wish my hair was a more exciting color. It’s not horrible, it’s just mid-brown. Not dark like Alexei’s and nowhere close to blond. Brown. But I do have nice natural lowlights and Florida has brought out some highlights that thankfully didn’t turn out to be brassy. Definitely things could be worse. My eyes scan the bland off-white ceiling tiles, hoping for inspiration when peripheral movement catches my attention. I lower my head.

That’s when I spot the woman heading into Alexei’s office. She’s the same level of gorgeous as he is. Long dark hair hanging down her back, completely straight and thick, like a shampoo commercial. She’s acting like she’s trying to surprise him and it seems to work because I see him stand and look shocked. Then a delighted smile spreads across his face, into his eyes. “Nat! What are you doing here?” he asks her.

Fuck. I just got my answer, and it wasn’t the one I wanted. I don’t hear the rest of their conversation because somehow the tears tightening my eyes are also clogging my ears. I stare at my computer screen blindly, waiting for the dull ache to pass. I’m not jealous of that woman exactly. Oh, I could be. I’m not denying that, but I’m so fucking envious of her ability to get that reaction from Alexei, instantly. He looked happy to see her, joyful even.

The strongest reaction I’ve ever gotten from him was a lot more tepid. Kind, with a huge helping of restraint. The occasional jaw tightening. I sort of had myself convinced that was who he is. Although I managed a few fantasies about how that control might play out in his bedroom. I mean, the man has to let go at some point, right?

Clearly I was wrong. Or at least deluding myself that he might pay more attention to me than the other women here. I hear the two of them leave his office after he locks up and head towards the exit. I listen to my pulse pounding in my veins until I remind myself to breathe.

Then I carefully reply to Sarah’s email with an acceptance and compose a brief follow on note to my boss. I’m not losing my chance with Alexei by leaving because I never had one to begin with. That’s what I need to keep reminding myself. If I keep all my attention on my job in the future, I won’t be hurt like this again. That sharp stabbing feeling is just shock and disappointment. It will fade.