He briefly knocks and, without waiting, opens the door and walks in. I follow him. I close the door behind us. Bianka is sitting at the desk, typing quickly on her laptop. Seeing us, she stops and rises from her chair. With a wide smile, she heads towards Andriy. Her whole appearance screams that she is thrilled to see him, no matter what the reasons are.
I confess, "I expected to see a spiteful model like his sister Nadya. But, to my annoyance, Bianka turned out to be entirely different, "tall and slim, yes. And all the curves and bumps in the right places, which her short, tight red dress only accentuates. However, something about her whole image still radiates delicacy or perhaps tenderness.
Chocolate hair, woven with honey strands and flipped to one side, reveals a slender neck, and her face features neat makeup. I grudgingly admit to myself that with her finely chiseled, beautiful facial features, well-defined cheekbones, and large brown eyes framed by thick, lush lashes, she hardly needs any makeup.
While I examine my rival, she finally shifts her gaze from Poliansky and moves her brown eyes to mine. We are of the same height, eye to eye in an assessing glance. Two complete opposites...Like black and white…
Yet in a moment, I feel like that spiteful creature who boldly intruded into someone else’s garden. Though why should I? If there was anything between them, it’s long in the past. He's with me now!
At the last jealous thought, I almost ground my teeth, but outwardly, I showed nothing. I keep smiling politely.
Bianka, she says in a melodic yet confident tone, and extends a thin hand with well-cared-for long fingers. "Nice to meet you, Milana."
I smile back and shake her warm hand.
Likewise, Bianka, I respond in the most friendly tone I can muster at the moment.
I take it this isn't a routine check? – Andriy's deputy immediately gets down to business, inviting us to sit in the lounge area with a leather couch and chairs, while I internally freeze and am afraid even to glance in his direction, not to give anything away. I don't know what exactly she knows or suspects.
" Not quite, Polianskyi replies calmly, sitting on the couch. " I zipped back to Krakow as the anniversary approaches and decided to swing by the offices; it's been a while, he smiles.
" Ah, yes. Ten years already. Hard to believe…, " Bianka muses and sits in a chair opposite the couch, while I, following Andriy by inertia, sit next to him, not even thinking about it. But it’s too late to change anything now. Thus, I pretend as if it's completely normal and ignore the fact that his robust body is now so close to mine."
" Yes", a long time, Andriy smiles at his memories.
" Bianka, have you been working at the company since its founding? I ask professionally, unable to contain my curiosity."
" No, Andriy had been working for about a year when I joined his team, " she smiles, recalling those clearly pleasant times. " When he launched the business, I was just finishing my last university year, so we decided it would be better for me to finish my studies first."
That last statement and the "we" leave no doubt that she means them together. And the tone she used certainly suggests that they were definitely in a relationship at that time.
All my beliefs…about trust, about healthy relationships, reason after all…are now rapidly vanishing, swallowed by a red haze of fierce jealousy. It burns in my chest, and my heart aches. Damn it. I'm not sure I needed this information. Meanwhile, my brain quickly adds two and two, and what comes out, I deeply dislike, spawning many questions and conjectures. One is worse than the other.
First, that they were definitely together then, and at least for a year, since afterward Bianka went to work with him.
Second, that she still works here. And that he took her as his deputy two years ago because, in his own words, he needed someone he could fully trust."
This thought makes the pain in my chest unbearable. I realize that I will likely not remain silent on this topic. Especially considering how Bianka looks at Andriy, repeatedly noting how close he is sitting to me.
With all my might, I try to keep a look of indifferent interest, casual curiosity on my face. My God, it costs me hundreds of killed nerve cells. But it seems Bianka relaxes somewhat concerning me, because then her attention is absorbed only by him.
But the WAY she looks leaves no doubt for me that the feelings are still there. They exist. At least for her, definitely. Damn it. After so many years? And then suddenly I get another blow that takes my breath away. Another thought, another guess... Why "after", actually?
Could they have been together all these years?
After that, I just break out in a sweat and cannot hold back, stretching my stiff and seemingly bloodless lips into a weak smile:
" Bianka, could I ask for a glass of water? It's so hot today.
" Yes, of course. Just a minute," she gracefully rises from the chair, not a strand of chocolate hair out of place, and heads to the cooler next to her desk.
While she's busy, I manage to slowly turn my head to Andriy and give him an icy look with a silent question, "Just a deputy then?" I see how the bastard just silently purses his lips and shows no more emotion.
Are my suspicions not just suspicions, but an unpleasant reality?
In anger, I try to move away from him almost to the edge of the damned couch. But the efforts are mediocre because the size of the couch doesn't allow me to escape far. But here comes Bianka back with a glass in her hand, and I stop my futile attempts to run. I put back on the mask of indifference. Only this time, it's harder and more painful to maintain.
" Thank you," I take the glass and take a sip of the cool water. It doesn't get easier, but it helps to somewhat stabilize my shaken emotions.
" You're welcome," she replies politely. " Andriy, are you staying in Wrocław for long?
"Not sure yet. But definitely for a few days. Maybe longer," his tone sounds thoughtful, but the unspoken and meaningful "yes, if there's a reason to stay" hangs in the air and mercilessly hits my nerves. At least mine, because her brown eyes briefly sparkle with undisguised joy from this news and anticipation.
I grit my inner cheek angrily. I try to calm the tumultuous whirl of emotions so as not to lash out at this bastard Polianskyi. For these ambiguous hints and for the implications.
"I'll clear my office while you're here," Bianka starts, but Andriy raises his hand, stopping her.
" No need, Bi. The spare will be fine. And we'll set up a place here in the reception for Milana. We can easily squeeze in an extra desk.
At this next hint of close acquaintance, when he casually calls her "Bi," I convulse again, and yet again today I'm forced to practice my own endurance. Yes, Milana, inhale-exhale, inhale-exhale. Just breathe. Just breathe and feel nothing.
I repeat this to myself like a mantra, as they discuss where to place and settle that today, Andriy and I will share the spare office.
"Well then, excellent, " the damn bossalmost rubs his hands with pleasure. " Then let's get to work, ladies. The day is drawing to a close, but I'm sure we'll still accomplish a lot today.
His enthusiasm irks me, and the muscles in my face ache from maintaining the smile for so long. We get up from the couch. I force myself to ignore the fact that Bianka doesn't even hide how she reaches for Andriy. We leave her office. And within a few minutes, we are already opening the doors to a small room, apparently the spare office itself.
I survey it. There's only one desk, so I'll have to sit opposite Polianskyi. At least for today. I press my lips tighter. Well then. Later. I'll tell him everything later. Just have her leave first. I place the case with documents on the table and turn back to Bianka.
Everything about her now frankly annoys me…even the light floral scent of perfume, which I usually like. I won’t do as much as look at it ever again…
She's too perfect. Probably, if Bianka were a bit like Nadya, it would definitely be easier for me. Now I understand why he was in a relationship with her. What is unclear, though, is what led to their breakup.
Andriy's deputy leaves. Poliansky closes the door behind her. The air between us almost crackles from tension. And my outrage has now spun into a powerful vortex and teeters on the edge, just waiting for a little push to explode.
Andriy slowly turns to me, and I collide with a turquoise gaze. A damn angry turquoise gaze that just throws lightning bolts of anger...