HER VENGEANCE, HIS OBSESSION

Chapter 15

Maya's POV

I barged into his office without bothering to knock.

“What do you want, sir?” I said, flashing him a tight, toothy smile.

He didn't even acknowledge my presence and kept his eyes glued to the documents in front of him.

“Drop the attitude, Maya.”

I rolled my eyes at him.

“Sit.”

I frowned.

Who was he to boss me around?

Your boss.

Shut up.

“Do you ever say please?”

“Do you ever do as you're told?”

I walked over to one of the chairs facing him and sat down with a huff.

I leaned back, settling in comfortably.

“Are you done?” he asked dryly.

I gave him a look.

“Are you always this pleasant, or am I just special?”

“Neither.”

I scoffed.

“Wow. So charming.”

He ignored me, picked up a file from one of the piles on his desk, and tossed it in front of me.

“Um, what's that?” I asked, eyeing the file in front of me.

His eyes lifted to mine.

“Open it.”

I shot him an unimpressed look before picking up the file and opening it.

“Uh, what exactly am I looking at?” I asked, confused.

“Your first assignment,” he simply said.

Huh? Assignment?

I looked down at the file again, then back at him.

“Since when do I have assignments?” I demanded, narrowing my eyes.

“Since you started working for me.”

I let out a short, disbelieving laugh.

“Right. And when exactly did I agree to that?” I raised an eyebrow.

His expression didn't change. He still had that bored look on his face.

“Read the damn thing, Maya.”

I glared at him but did as he said.

I flipped through the pages, my eyes scanning the neatly arranged documents.

At first, I thought it was just some boring paperwork. But the more I read, the more confused I became.

Apparently, Zakhar’s company was planning to partner with Anderson’s firm to build a luxury hotel, and somehow, I was the lucky i***t chosen to present the entire damn thing.

Great.

“Who the hell is Mr. Anderson?” I asked, pointing at the name on the page.

“The man you're presenting to tomorrow,” he replied.

Who? Man? Presenting? Tomorrow? Huh? What the f**k?

My mind was practically running a marathon.

“What do you mean by presenting?” I asked, trying to calm myself down.

“You will give a presentation on the topic in the file tomorrow, and everyone in there, especially Mr. Anderson, better have something good to say about it. Or so help me.” He gave me a warning look. “I will not lose this deal because of you.”

“Oh, the pressure,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Make sure to do something about your clothes.”

“What's wrong with my clothes?” I asked, glancing down at myself.

“They’re not appropriate for work.”

Did he just—

I got up from my seat, the file tucked under my arm.

“First, don't you ever tell a woman what she should and shouldn't wear. Ever. I’ll wear whatever the hell I want to. Heck, if I wanted to wear a trash bag, I’d wear the goddamn bag. Second, if you know the contract is that important to you, then why bother putting me in charge of it? And third, you’re a f*****g douchebag.” I snapped before turning and walking out.

“Be ready before eight.”

I slammed the door shut.

I hope his precious door breaks into tiny little pieces.

I marched back to my office, the file tucked tightly under my arm.

The moment I stepped inside, I dropped it onto the desk.

I paced around the room for a few seconds, still annoyed.

Who does he think he is?

I felt like strangling him.

If he wanted to impress some Mr. Anderson, why did he f*****g choose me?

I glanced down at my outfit.

It wasn't even showing any skin, and he was the one who bought the outfit for me.

Motherfucker.

You know what? If they want a presentation, I'm going to give them one they'll never forget.

Let the games begin, Zakhar Mikhail.

---

The next morning, I stood in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection.

I glanced at the clock.

7:40 a.m.

Perfect.

I took one more good look at myself. I was wearing a backless red top with a deep-cut neckline that made my boobs the star of the show, an extremely short mini skirt, and matching ankle boots. My curly hair was styled in a sleek low bun. As the cherry on top, I finished the look with smoky makeup.

I grinned at my reflection.

Let the drama begin.

I grabbed my bag, tucked the file securely inside and headed downstairs.

Or at least, I tried to.

Somehow, I managed to take the wrong turn.

Again.

I seriously need a map to get around this house.

I stopped at the end of the hallway and looked around.

“You've got to be kidding me.” I groaned.

After what felt like forever, I finally spotted the stairs and hurried toward them before I somehow got lost all over again.

I headed toward the dining room.

The moment I stepped in, the entire table went silent.

I stopped.

Everyone was staring at me.

An older version of Zakhar, who I assumed was his dad, chuckled as he sipped from his cup. Zakhar’s mom’s hand froze halfway to her cup before she smiled sweetly at me, while a little girl with strawberry-blond hair and emerald-green eyes was openly staring at my outfit, grinning.

“This outta be interesting,” I heard Ilya snicker.

“Good morning, sweetheart. Please come join us,” Zakhar's mom said softly.

I smiled at her. Just as I was about to head toward them, I heard a voice from behind.

“What the f**k are you wearing?”

The pooper of all parties.

I turned and greeted him with a grin.

“Good morning to you too.”

Zakhar's eyes immediately dropped to my outfit, lingering on my chest.

Oh, did I forget to mention I wasn't wearing a bra?

Oops.

His expression didn't change, but the slight tightening of his jaw told me enough.

Oh, he was definitely annoyed.

I smiled wider.

“Go change into something more appropriate.”

“Aww, you don't like my outfit? How sad. Well I think I look great,” I said with a grin.

“I said, change your goddamn—”

“I’ll advise you to choose your next words wisely, mister.” I turned to see his mum narrowing her eyes at him. “You do not talk to Maya like that, and you do not tell her what to wear. As long as she's comfortable in it, she's good by me.”

She turned to me. “Are you comfortable in the clothes you have on, dear?”

“Yes ma'am,” I replied, nodding.

“Oh, please. You can call me Mariya.” She smiled.

It's official. I love this woman.

Zakhar looked taken aback, staring at his mom in disbelief.

“Mama—”

“Listen to your mother,” his dad cut him off.

He stared at him in shock.

I snorted, and he glared at me.

“Let's go,” he grumbled.

I followed him with a huge smile on my face.

The drive to the office was painfully quiet.

Well, except for the occasional sound of my fingers tapping against my bag.

Fine by me.

I had no intention of making conversation with him either.

He glared at me through the rearview mirror from time to time, no doubt mentally cursing me.

Well, too bad for him. I’d been cursing him since the day we met.

When we finally arrived at the office, I got out before he could say anything and marched inside.

I headed straight for the elevator, with him following close behind.

The doors opened, and I stepped inside.

Zakhar walked in after me.

I pressed the button for our floor and leaned against the wall.

He glanced at me. I flashed him a sweet smile, and he looked away.

Today was going to be fun.

The elevator doors opened, and I stepped out.

I walked straight toward my office, but before I could reach the door, Zakhar's voice stopped me.

“Maya.”

I turned around.

“What?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Conference room. Now.”

“Yes, boss,” I said, giving him a mock salute.

This man seriously needed to learn the magic of the word please.

When we came in, there were already people seated inside.

I glanced around the room.

At least six people were seated around the large conference table, all of them turning to look at us.

Great.

More people to watch me fail.

Yay.

Zakhar walked in without a care in the world.

Everyone immediately straightened in their seats, looking nervous.

It took everything in me not to laugh.

Seriously? What's so scary about this guy?

“Good morning, sir,” they all echoed, except for one guy who was practically undressing me with his eyes.

This guy looked way older than me, probably even older than Zakhar. I'd put him somewhere in his mid-sixties, but apparently that didn't stop him from staring at me with those beady little eyes. There was something about the way he carried himself, like he was so damn important and could do whatever he wanted.

I didn't like this man from the moment I saw him, and made sure he knew by glaring at him. But that only seemed to encourage his creepy staring.

“Maya.”

I snapped out of my train of thoughts.

I turned to face Zakhar.

He nodded in the direction of the creep. “This is Mr. Anderson.”

Well, s**t.

My life was a joke.

Now I was regretting putting on this outfit.