The unexpected
1026 Words
The phone was pressed to my ear, my voice hushed though the office was mostly quiet.
“Yes, I’ll deposit more money by the end of this month,” I said softly. “Tell him I’ll visit when I can. Please just remind him I haven’t forgotten about him. I’ll make it up to him soon.”
The words left me with a hollow ache. I couldn’t afford for anyone here to overhear — not when I had to keep up the facade of being the perfect assistant. The last thing I needed was Kanat Timofey, my ice-block of a boss, sniffing weakness on me.
As if on cue, my desk phone buzzed.
“Vondy. Office. Now.”
His voice was sharp, commanding, the kind that didn’t need to shout to send chills down my spine. I stood quickly, grabbed the reports I’d been finalizing, and hurried down the hall to his office.
The plaque on the door read CEO. Mr. Kanat Timofey in bold letters, like a silent warning. I drew a deep breath, knocked, and slipped inside.
He didn’t look up immediately, just scribbled a note on the file in front of him. When his eyes finally lifted, they were colder than the AC unit in my apartment.
“You’re late,” he said.
“I came as soon as you called.”
“You should have been waiting.”
I bit down on my tongue. Always waiting. Always ready. Always perfect. He had no idea how much I juggled in a single day just to keep afloat.
I placed the folder on his desk. “The reports you requested, sir.”
He flipped through a few pages, and his frown deepened. “Sloppy.”
“Sloppy?” My eyebrows shot up. “With respect, the numbers are correct, the analysis is solid—”
“The margins are off. Alignment is inconsistent. Do you think investors want to read a file that looks like it was printed by a child?”
Heat flared in my cheeks. “So now my entire career depends on whether my margins are one inch or half an inch?”
“Careful, Miss Vondy.” His tone sharpened like a blade.
Something in me snapped. Maybe it was the phone call I’d just had, or the way my bills piled up higher than my confidence, or maybe it was simply Kanat himself. But for once, I didn’t back down.
“I’m not being careless, Mr. Timofey. The content is there. The work is solid. You can criticize my formatting, but don’t insult my effort.”
Silence stretched like a rubber band pulled too tight.
Kanat leaned back in his chair, eyes locked on me. He didn’t explode. He didn’t dismiss me. He just… stared. As if trying to figure out who I was and why I suddenly had a backbone.
The longer he stared, the hotter my cheeks burned. My pulse thudded so loudly I swore he could hear it.
Finally, he shut the file with a soft thud. “Fix it.”
That was all.
I nodded, spun on my heel, and marched out, though my heart was still racing like I’d just survived a battlefield.
By closing time, I was counting the minutes until freedom. My bag was half-packed when his voice carried down the hall again.
“Vondy. Come with me.”
I froze. “Sir, it’s my closing time.”
“I know,” he said, already striding toward the elevators. “We’ll review a file on the way to the restaurant. I’ll drop you afterward.”
Restaurant?
I scrambled to keep up. “Yes, sir. Just let me grab my things.”
We descended into the private garage, where his driver Mr. Sam waited by the sleek black SUV.
“Good evening, Mr. Sam,” I greeted warmly.
His kind smile crinkled his eyes. “Miss Vondy. Always nice to see you.”
Mr. Sam was one of the few bright spots in this icy empire. He’d offered me rides before, insisting Mr. Timofey wouldn’t mind, but I never dared accept. The last thing I wanted was to give Kanat an excuse to find me “sloppy” outside office hours too.
Sliding into the SUV beside him was… suffocating. The space was too small, his presence too large. His cologne—dark, rich, commanding—wrapped around me like a cage.
I stared hard out the window, pretending to admire the city lights, while my palms grew slick.
Play it cool, Vondy. Pretend you’re not sweating buckets in the AC.
The ride stretched forever, yet ended too soon.
“Come down,” he said, already stepping out.
I followed quickly, heels clicking on the polished floor of a restaurant that screamed wealth in every detail—gold accents, velvet chairs, a wine list probably longer than my resume.
He took his seat at a prime table, while I hovered by the side like an awkward shadow.
Minutes passed. Five. Ten. His date hadn’t shown.
My jaw nearly dropped. Who in their right mind stood up Kanat Timofey? The man didn’t tolerate late emails, let alone lateness in flesh and blood.
“Vondy.”
I jolted. “Yes, sir?”
“Come here.”
“Sir?”
“I said come here.”
Heart hammering, I walked to his table.
“SIT.”
I blinked. “Sir… me?”
“Yes. Sit.”
My legs moved before my brain caught up. I slipped into the chair opposite him, fumbling to pull out the folder I’d carried. “I brought the files you asked for, should I—”
“Marry me.”
The words detonated in the air between us.
I froze, folder halfway open, pen clutched uselessly in my hand. “What?”
Kanat’s green eyes never wavered. “Marry me.”
The restaurant, the files, the world—all of it blurred.
My jaw went slack. “You… did you just—”
“You heard me.”
And just like that, the man who terrified an entire company had dropped a bombshell that knocked the breath right out of me.
- Writer
