C3 Chapter Two

Anya's POV

Kareena had never liked Calvin. She claimed he rubbed her the wrong way and swore there was something fishy about him, she just couldn't place her finger on it. Anya had tried not to think too much of it. She was civil to him in his presence even though she bad mouthed him behind his back.

He didn't like her either. When they first met, he had attempted to charm her, and had found it a challenge when she didn't immediately fall for his charms. When it became clear she would never warm up to him, he gave up and derided her.

Anya faced him as soon as the door closed behind Kareena.

"What do you want?" She asked, hostility dripped from her voice.

He grinned. He had the guts to grin. "I told you. I want us to have lunch together."

"You can drop the act. We're alone now." Anya crossed her arms across her bosom and glared at him. Her anger rose every second she had to look at his face.

"You're right. I came to ask you out to dinner tonight."

Anya gawked at him incredulously, sure she had heard him wrong. "Are you crazy?" She began to pace the room. "You cheated on me, Calvin. Multiple times. Why TF would I have dinner with you?"

"And I apologized. Multiple times."

Anya snorted a laugh. "I don't have time for this. Leave." She pinned her gaze in him, her face expressionless.

"Anya,—" he began nearing her and raising his hand to place on her shoulders

She jumped back, recoiling like she was burned when his hands almost touched her.

"Get out." She pointed at the door. "Or I'll call security."

He dropped his hands that had been suspended in the air where her shoulders had been. With one last look, he turned around and left.

Anya's chest sagged in relief. She wasn't fooled or deceived that she wouldn't see him again. This was the fourth time he'd done this in three weeks. He would be back.

* * * * *

New York looked the same as it did in her memories. Choke full of people and buildings that seemed to be competing for oxygen. Shhe had a bittersweet relationship with the city. It's boisterousness always made her realize that she was just one person, just a tiny speck in the the world. That even if she disappeared off the surface of the earth, the world would go on.

She had visited the city for first time at eighteen, and had fallen into a mini existential crisis. There she was in the busiest city in the world, unsure of herself and questioning her place in it. She has always been sure of herself, she knew exactly who she was and what she was doing never went anywhere without a plan. But New York was different. She had lived in the country for two years by then and hadn't really ventured away from Boston at all. Her then roommate invited to go with her on a trip. She'd obliged because she wanted to see a bit of the country that would be her new home for the foreseeable future.

She'd felt the shift in atmosphere as soon as they got of the interstate. The air buzzed with a restless energy. Sitting in a cab in traffic, she had looked around and the sheer number of cars on the road and pedestrians surging onwards with one vibrant pulse shocked her. She'd known of the city's business but witnessing it for herself was revolutionary. Something changed in her mind that day that set the trajectory for the rest of her life.

They'd taken the subway to Brooklyn and that had been an experience. She could still smell the filth and smells now and recall her nausea. They moved in with a friend of a friend and shared bedrooms. It was rowdy, boisterous, overly congested. But the week she spent there became one of the best trips of her life and a most treasured memory.

Today, she stood in front of a Manhattan highrise. One way glass kept the going ons inside the building secret from the people that milled the street. She stared up at it, trying to decipher which she was going to. People flowed around her, going about their business.

A loud horn dissipated her thoughts and brought her back to earth. With a deep breath, she walked to the entrance.

Security let her in after checking her ID. She proceeded inside and was hit with a blast of cold air that caused her to tug her sleeves down. It wasn't that hot outside, winter only just left, but it was freezing in here. Like she had dropped into a restaurant freezer. Rubbing her hands together for warmth, she proceeded to the elevator.

The shinning elevator doors reflected herself as she waited for them to open. She almost didn't recognize herself. She wasn't wearing the usual t-shirt and jeans she wore to work, but instead had donned black slacks and a navy blue silk blouse, complete with black stilettoes.

She got off the elevator on the eleventh floor as the email she'd received form Alastair's assistant instructed her to. It wasn't as cold here as it was on the ground floor. She didn't feel the need to throw a blanket over herself, but she did want hot coffee though.

A large sign that read "Tessian" assured her that she was in the right place. Wide glass doors stood next to the sign and opened to a reception area so quiet she wondered if anyone worked there. Bright weirdly designed upholstery were littered on the wide floors and a tiny boy-man with pasty skin and curly hair was sprawled (that was the only appropriate way to describe his position on the chair, one half of his body on the floor and the other on the chair) on one typing away on his computer.

He didn't look up when she passed him, even though her heels clicked loudly on the hardwood floors. At the receptionist desk, she plastered a smile on her face, trying to appear friendly even though she felt anything but. A man and woman with headpieces/mouthpieces sat clicking away on their keyboards and staring at their computer screens. They didn't look away from them when she said "Hello."

She repeated her greeting, this time with more force and the women glanced at her for a fraction of a second before looking back at her computer. She put up one finger signalling a second then continuing to type. Anya tapped her feet as she waited, her back ramrod straight. The man looked away from his computer at her and smiled.

"Hello. How may I be of help?" He asked, still smiling that customer service smile.

"I have a 2'oclock appointment with Mr Alastair York."

The woman's clicking stopped and her eyes darted to Anya and scanned her face, all in a second. The clicking resumed.

"Alright. Name please?" The man said.

"Anya Volkov."

He picked up a phone Anya hadn't even noticed sitting on the desk and placed it to his ear, dialing a number. Anya tuned him out, opting to look around.

There wasn't much to see. Other than the receptionists's desk and the sitting area with peculiar furniture, there was a doorway leading to a hall to the left and another to the right. They stood forbidden, like they could only be assessed by a select and special group of people, and they probably were. Given how expensive/impressive/impressive the place looked and felt.

The boy-man had moved sometime in the last few minutes and the seat now sat empty. Anya contemplated going to sit on it, it looked comfortable from how he had been sprawled. Also her feet were killing her, a direct consequence of wearing heels. She couldn't remember the last time she wore heels. The sole pair she owned sat desolate and abandoned at the bottom of her closet for most of the year. She should have gone with something more comfortable. A wedge would be nice, maybe even something open toed. Whoever created stilettoes loathed women.

Loud chatter drew her attention, and she didn't have to crane her neck to see where it was coming from. Two very young girls walked out from the right doorway. They looked like they were still in college. Their dark hair spilled over their shoulders. They were dressed in almost identical button down shirts and linen trousers that ended just above their ankles. They wore leather loafers and they looked so comfortable she itched to rip them off their feet and put them on herself.

What possessed her to wear heels?!

"You can go in." The receptionists's voice interrupted her self caused loathing.

Anya reluctantly dragged her eyes back to him.

"It's the third door just down that hall."

She said her thanks and continued on her way.

A woman stood outside the third door, also the last door in the hall.

"Dr. Volkov?" She asked, smiling when Anya reached her.

"Yes. Anya Volkov."

"I'm Grace, Mr York's assistant." They both shook hands. "This way, please."

"Please have a seat. Mr York is just wrapping up a meeting." She enthused, gesturing at the plush chairs that sat opposite her desk.

Anya walked leisurely to the sitting area and sink into one of the chairs. Her feet rejoiced in the little victory that they didn't have to walk for a while even though bruises were forming on her skin.

"Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee? Tea?" Grace asked.

"No..."Anya began then backtracked. "Yes. A cup of coffee would be great."

"Alright. A cup of coffee coming right up. Milk? Sugar?" Grace said rising to prepare the coffee.

"Just milk. Thanks."

Her eyes roved around the room. It was decent sized, and other than Grace's desk area bad the sitting area where Anya sat, a little coffee nook-station stood in a corner, where Grace now prepared Anya's coffee. The room was cozy. Lush, fur carpets covered the floors, and the walls were painted a rich bla bla bla. From where she sat, she could see other high rises through the roof to floor glass walls.

"Your coffee." Grace's sing sing voice pulled her away from her thoughts. She beamed handing Anya a styrofoam cup.

Anya beamed back as she accepted it and the subtle warmth seeped through her hand.

"Thank you." She was glad it was a styrofoam cup and not a mug. She wouldn't know how to handle it and prevent it from spilling with the nerves now beginning to work their way through her body.

She took a tentative sip and grimaced as it hit her tongue.

Yup. She hated coffee.

She had never liked it. Never drank it no matter how much Kareena tried to convince her that it tasted good. But when she walked into the lobby downstairs and was hit with the cold, her brain had thought "coffee" instead of the tea she would normally drink. She regretted it now that she had the beverage. But she couldn't just trash it after Grace's effort. So she took another sip.

God! This was vile. Even with the milk, it tasted like tar looked like it did. How did people drink this stuff all the time?! Kareena just chugged it down every hour like an addict.

She placed the cup on the coffee table near her and looked up to find Grace watching her with a knowing look.

"Coffee not your thing, huh?"

"I'm afraid so."

Grace smiled and went back to her work.

Anya dwidled her fingers, wondering if she should pull out her phone and check her emails while she waited. She had been in too much of a hurry to do it this morning. Her eyes strayed to the doors behind Grace's desk that obviously led to Alastair's office and her stomach skipped. She wasn't nervous about meeting him, not even in the slightest. If anything, she was excited at the prospect of their meeting.

The door behind Grace open and Anya's eyes darted to it just as a portly man stepped out. Decked in a suit and tie, he was the most formally dressed person she'd seen in the building. It made ever feel less overdressed.

Alastair York stepped out next.

Anya would have recognized him even if she hadn’t done an extensive internet search on him and hadn’t seen him via zoom. He looked exactly like he did on screen, except better. His body filled the doorway. The dark suit he donned molded to his entire physique. He was tall, she acknowledged. His hair was mused today too. It had been haywire during their zoom meeting. He kept running his hands through it and Anya had to exercise control to not scream at him to stop messing with his hair.

She wasn’t the only one affected by his presence. Grace’s face had taken on a deep flush and she was looking everywhere but directly at him.

Alastair turned to Anya as the man left. He had seen her sitting as soon as he walked out, his eyes drawn to her. He approached her with a gleam in his eye.

"Dr Volkov." He greeted, smiling and stretching his hand out for a handshake and looking her directly in the eye. "I'm glad I finally get to meet you in person."

Anya met his gaze with hers and took his hand. "Likewise."

With her heels, they were almost at eye level. This was why she'd worn them. Although it was the 21st century, women were still inferior in most workplaces and especially the corporate world, which was second only in it's sexism to STEM.

She dropped his hand, and he turned to Grace who watched them with hyper interested eyes. “Cancel the rest of my appointments for the day.”

Anya's eyes widened in surprise. Where they really going to talk that long? She had to admit the entire situation was weird— him contacting her. It was weirder still that he had sent her plane tickets and was paying for her hotel. Something about all this didn't sit right. But she followed Alastair into his office and watched him close the door after her, ignoring the warning bells going off in her head.

Anya sat on one of the chairs facing his desk. His office was lovely, and on any other day she would have admired it, but she was too apprehensive for that today. It was frosty in here and she rubbed her hands together missing the warmth of the cup of coffee. Alastair settled into his seat and rumnaged in his desk drawers after giving her a tiny smile. Her mind danced in relief when she saw the AC remote and sighed when the temperature raised.

"I'll go straight to the point, Dr. Volkov." Alastair started, leaning forward with his hands clasped on his desk.

"Anya, please." It felt strange to have anyone call her doctor even though she had worked her ass off for it and almost gave up midway. At her job, almost everyone had a doctorate so no one bothered with the honorifics and everyone just referred to everyone by their first name.

"Anya," he smiled. "I'm afraid I invited you here under false pretenses." His voice was relaxed.

"Excuse me?" The alarms became full blown ambulance sirens going off in her head.

"Don't be alarmed." He said.

"Really?" She retorted sarcastically.

"There is indeed a situation. A potential outbreak. With your expertise in genomics and molecular genetics and experience in pathology, you are the perfect fit." He paused for effect and held her gaze. His voice was low when he spoke again. "What I'm offering you is the opportunity to work on a world class project. I've seen your work."

"What kind of project exactly?"

"I can't go into specifics, but it's a virus."

"Mr. York, I'm afraid you're going to have to be more forthcoming than that."

He smiled. "Dr. Volkov, I cannot disclose any more than that. At least until you sign a non disclosure agreement. It is too sensitive."

"And what would I gain from all this? Other than bragging rights that I worked on a world class project." She sneered.

"You will be amply compensated for your time and expertise."

"I—"

"Think about it before you say no. The NDA just says that you won't disclose whatever we discuss to other parties. You don't have to accept the job if you sign. You can still refuse."

"I appreciate you thinking of me, but I don't want to do it. I'm not a citizen of this country and I would like to stay on the right side of the law during my time here." She said rising up.

He rose up with her and said. "Just one minute."

"The answer is no. Thank you for the opportunity."

She strode to the door, already cussing herself for coming here and wearing these stupid heels.

He reached the door before her and opened it for her. He thrust his hand in front of her and she looked down at what he held out; a business card. She plucked it from his hands and turned it over in hers. Obsidian black etched with silver lettering. She shoved it in her bag and exited the office.

Grace was at her desk and looked anticipatorily at her with a large smile when she walked out. Anya put on a smile and went to her.

She was almost at her desk when Grace's smile suddenly froze and her large eyes grew to the size of saucers. She frantically straightened her outfit. Anya stared in surprise at her bizzare behavior.

“Good afternoon. Mr. Wilde. He’s free right now.” She said staring at a spot behind Anya. The words rushed out in one breath.

Anya spun around to see who Grace was talking to. She noticed his eyes first. They were a swirl of yellow-gold, green. She couldn't tell what colors made up his eyes.

Strands of dark wavy hair tumbled over his forehead. Golden highlights weaved among the dark strands. She wanted to run her hands through his hair so she would know if it was as soft as it looked. His yellow eyes contrasted his olive skin.

He had a beard. Or stubble. It wasn't quite a beard, neither was it a stubble. The slightest dusting of dark hair covered his jaw and accentuated his cheekbones.

He was beautiful.

He stared straight forward, that Anya thought he hadn't heard Grace until he said, "Thank you, Grace. Hold his meetings until we're done." as he passed her desk.

The two women watched him as he disappeared into the office.

"Who is he?" Anya croaked out, the words tumbling out of her. Her eyes were still fixed on the door as though they could see through the metal into the office.

"Alexander Wilde." Grace breathed.

Anya's head turned so fast she almost got whiplash. She'd heard that name before.

"He owns DENZ. So he's Alastair's boss, I guess."

She remembered where she had heard it; Calvin. During one of his many rants about economic policies in the country. He'd referred to him as a shrewd businessman. Corporate bastards shouldn't be that beautiful though. It ought to be a crime. They shouldn't have the best of both worlds while others are forced to survive with too little.

She walked out of the Manhattan high-rise more dejcted than she walked in. The sky looked a little darker, her future grimmer. The single light of her day was the man she had seen; Alexander Wilde. She hailed a cab.