My Mate is Another Woman's Fate

Konstantin "Yesterday our clients from above reached out to me and offered to attend a closed seminar-exhibition on biomechanics. Some allied states are even willing to exchange technologies. It will be very interesting and beneficial for us." "When and where?" Margarita asked, suddenly energized. "In about a month. They said the exact date, as well as the location, will be announced literally a day before the event begins. You understand, it's confidential because of the risks. But they hinted that we'll need to take a charter flight for several hours." "I see." At that moment, Dana quietly entered the office, carrying a tray in her hands. And again, I'm staring at her like a fool seeing a new gate. The girl carefully places the coffee on the table, bringing along plenty of other sweets. Her cheeks are flushed-she's clearly embarrassed. That amuses me... and arouses me. I'll admit it: her appearance stirs up my already restless libido. Everything is by the dress code, even too much so. The skirt hugs her slender hips, the blouse hides and yet somehow emphasizes her breasts. I wouldn't mind taking a longer look. When she set the coffee down beside me, I caught her damn intoxicating scent. Like some exotic flower. It's so pleasant I just want to breathe it in again and again. For such a specimen, I might even break my own rule about not having affairs with employees. And that ponytail. I'd love to wind it around my fist. I wonder how she sounds when she moans? Wait, stop! There I go again. She distracts me way too much! She's standing there, chattering something about the sweets. She herself is sweeter than candy. As if I didn't already have work piled sky-high-now I've got a hard-on to deal with on top of it. Damn it! Maybe she's one of those women who spray themselves with pheromone perfumes to attract men? Dana quickly leaves, and that's probably for the best. I notice that Margo is lost deep in her own thoughts. ******* Dana Today is the second day of my internship coming to an end, and soon I'll hear the employer's verdict. My work isn't difficult, but it's definitely necessary for the company. Simple, routine tasks-calling clients, handling small errands, that sort of thing. And to my surprise, I actually enjoy it. The pay is good, too. I honestly don't understand how Margarita managed all this by herself before. There's so much little detail work, and yet it's impossible to run the firm without it. I can't help but admire her-though maybe the reason she looks so good is exactly because she's always on the move. The thought makes me smile. Konstantin is always in the office. A constant flow of people comes to him-employees with their projects, respected clients, business partners. And then, with just an hour left before the end of the workday, Victoria walks into the reception area. A tight dress, shorter than the knee, with an impressive, wide-open neckline. At least she had the sense to throw a blazer on top. And of course, she wouldn't be herself without high heels. Yes, her legs do go on forever. Inside me, the she-wolf growls, sensing such blatant competition. The girl greets Margarita politely, while I am granted nothing more than a nod and a condescending smile. I mentally roll my eyes at that. Her face practically screams "bitch." Well, I don't have to live with her, and I sincerely hope I'll never see her again anyway. Margarita motions me over. I step closer, holding my breath, nerves twisting inside me. Honestly, this position didn't matter that much to me before I met the boss. But now... now I desperately want to stay. And it's very clear why. My heart feels like it's about to jump right out of my chest. This is the moment-the verdict. Who will stay as the firm's assistant? "Well, ladies," she begins, her tone even and professional. "I've worked with both of you for two days, I've seen you in action, and I've chosen the person who suits me best for the position of my assistant." Her eyes sweep over us before she continues: "Dana, I'll expect you here Monday at nine. Victoria, I'm afraid I'll have to say goodbye to you." Victoria's face changes instantly, her smile twisting into something like a snarl. "And why exactly am I not suitable? What is it that didn't satisfy you?" Margarita arches her brows at such audacity, her gaze sharpening on Victoria. "You're not attentive. Instead of keeping your eyes glued to our director, you should have paid more attention to what I asked of you. I was looking for an assistant for myself, not for our boss. I need someone fully focused on work, not on finding a potential romantic partner. If you'd like, I can speak with the manager of our cafeteria-maybe they need staff. Their requirements are much simpler. But here, we're done." Her words land like a gavel striking. Oh, if looks could kill, both of us would already be dead. Growling under her breath, Victoria says nothing, lifts her chin as high as possible, and storms out of the office-slamming the door so loudly the walls shake. Margarita exhaled tiredly and closed her eyes for a moment. "Dana, come in on Monday as usual and bring the originals of your documents with you. We'll finalize your employment contract. You're free to go for today." After saying goodbye to her, I head home. My mood is soaring, practically up in the clouds. The weekend flew by in one breath. I happily shared the news with my family and friends: I got the job, and I'm staying in the city. Eli was especially thrilled, since she'd long wanted to pull me out of that "backwater," as she always called it. She also kindly offered to let me live in her apartment for as long as I needed. When I tried to argue, she waved me off and said my only "rent" would be spending more evenings with her. Everything seems so good, almost perfect. And yet, especially in the evenings, the wolf in me grows restless. I miss his scent so desperately it feels like I could howl at the moon. Speaking of the moon. In two weeks, there'll be a full moon. Luckily, this time it falls on the weekend, so I'll have to figure something out. My wolf won't accept another man in a physical sense. That's another gift-and curse-of being a werewolf. Once you find your mate, you can't look at anyone else romantically ever again. With a heavy sigh, I wipe away the single tear that escaped and snuggle deeper into my bed. Tomorrow begins a new work week. The phrase "I can't wait for Monday so I can go back to work" is now completely about me. Because there... HE will be there. In the morning, I get ready for work already as a full-fledged, official employee. How good that sounds! A pantsuit, a light blouse with a decent neckline, light makeup, hair pulled back into a ponytail. Many werewolves, after their beast has manifested, stop using perfume. And I was no exception. The smell is too sharp for our noses. No matter how pleasant it might be, by the end of the day it makes your head split and your stomach turn. That's why, after my "Day X," my whole perfume arsenal went straight to my sister Mia. For me, soap or shower gel is more than enough-at most, deodorant. I step into the reception office and immediately catch that scent that makes my head spin-I can't get enough of it. The boss is already in, must have come earlier, and only recently stood here. Margarita is also at her desk; we greet each other and get to work. Closer to lunchtime, a few rather plump men with briefcases enter. They introduce themselves as lawyers and head into the director's office. Meanwhile, Margarita turns to me with the next set of tasks: "Dana, take these documents over to accounting. After that, you can go on your lunch break. And after lunch, stop by HR to sign all the necessary hiring papers." I take the documents and set off on my mission. With some help from other employees, I find the accounting department. Walking into the office, I see several heavyset ladies and one man. At the center of the room sits a woman with a massive teased-up hairstyle, furiously punching numbers into a calculator. Strange-I thought no one in such a prestigious firm used those anymore. There are computers, software, all kinds of programs. But whatever. The nameplate on her desk reads: Larisa Georgievna Kartyl, Chief Accountant. I greet her, introduce myself, and hand over the documents. She gives me a sharp, scrutinizing look from eyes heavily lined Cleopatra-style, snatches the papers, and without saying a word continues tapping away at the calculator. I step out of the office and let out a sigh of relief. What a personality! Her aura is almost suffocating. A true queen. Smiling to myself, I head toward the cafeteria.