Chapter 3 A Suspicious Interview

• Mary
• I spent the whole morning absorbed in a series of short stories that arrived in the e-mail, and ended up not noting the passage of time until Halley warned me that my parents were waiting for me at the central reception of the building.
• I ran to the elevator, barely remembering to tell my boss I was leaving. Luckily the elevator was standing on the floor, when I got to the ground floor, it was just my mother who was waiting at the reception, getting countless prying eyes.
• For those who do not know her, she might even seem like a distinct and harmless woman, but those who work there know the danger that their presence posed.
• "Mary, you’re finally here " She scolded as soon as I arrived.
• I noticed her blonde strands perfectly fastened in a coe, her eyes of indefinite color, which I wish I had inherited, and her body covered by the cream suit, which could accentuate each curve to perfection. My dad was a lucky guy.
• "It's twenty-five floors, Mom," I rolled my eyes, "to get here faster if only I jumped out the window.
• "Your father is waiting for us at Le Bernie," she said by putting her hand on my back and urging me to walk, “he took Paris straight there.”
• " Paris? Who's Paris? "I stopped walking, staring at the open door of the car “Why will this Paris be there?”
• "Didn't your father warn you? "My mother rolled her eyes, urging me to get in the car “We're going to give an interview to Paris Thompson's column.”
• "What? " I widened my eyes.
• I hated those interviews, I always ran away from that and they never made a point of me participating, why the change?
• "It was for your father to have warned you," she sighed by casting a sympathetic eye on me, "Next time I'll take care of it myself.
• Well, if it was her and not my dad in the morning, I'd definitely be in trouble. I took a deep breath and moved on, trying to imagine what was waiting for me.
• " What kind of interview is this?” I questioned, while the driver drove through the few blocks that paraded the company from the restaurant.
• Hellish traffic, as always, slowed things down.
• " About our family, about the company, these things.
• "And why do I have to participate? Why now? "I insisted.
• I've seen dozens of interviews like this, but I've never had to participate in any.
• "Well, because people want to know why our heiress is working as a personal assistant," she answered me, "And they want to know your point of view about it.”
• "You can't be serious! Mom, I'm not a public person, I don't have to give my life satisfaction” I moan “Come on, I work, I basically live with the money I get, I've never been arrested, why don't you leave me alone?”
• "We're not asking you to tell me anything personal, Mary," she stared at me “It's not the end of the world. And the part about never being arrested is relative, isn't it?”
• "That's not how I see it," I rolled my eyes, ignoring her provocation.
• "Come on," she ignored my protests when the car pulled up at the entrance to the restaurant.
• Mary
• I followed her quietly to the table where my father and Paris were waiting for us. She was a columnist for Adweek, a popular business magazine. She got her job a short time ago and was already interviewing the Navruz family.
• Good for her!
• I've seen her walk around the building a few times, but I've never been interested in meeting her, or even interacting with her. She wore a neutral-colored outfit and had her blonde hair elegantly messy.
• "There are the women of my life," Omar declared.
• He had changed clothes since he was in the office earlier, he wore a gray suit with white shirt and wine tie. A matching scarf with the tie and ruby cufflinks completed the look.
• Did he always need to dress like he was about to watch an opera?
• "Do you know Miss Thompson? "He gave me a kiss on the cheek and a quick kiss on my mother lips, before pulling the chair so she would sit down
• "Mrs. Navruz" Paris smiled, reaching out to my mother “Ms. Navruz.”
• "Call me Mary," I asked.
• "I've already ordered some appetizer," Omar said, "And also white wine, Miss Thompson was asking me some fascinating questions about you Mary.
• "About me? "I faced her as a surprise.
• "I'm sorry," the girl hastened to say when she saw my reaction “I'm just curious.”
• "No need to worry, girl," Omar hastened to answer, Mary is here to answer any questions you have.”
• "A detail you forgot to warn me about earlier, didn't it, old man? "I murmured unwillingly, watching a small engraver on the table beside the young woman.
• "I'm sorry, little girl, but I had more interesting things to watch in the morning” Omar shrugged before changing the subject “Did you like the restaurant, Ms. Thompson?”
• "I loved it," she answered in a hurry, "It's very beautiful.”
• " After I passed Navruz earlier, I thought about taking them to The Russian Tea Room” My father started without unsticking my eyes “But unfortunately I had already made that reservation... The Russians are fascinating, don't you think, Miss Thompson?”
• "I suppose so," she replied confusedly, "I…”
• "And you Marianne? "My father smiled," I'm sure you find the Russians fascinating.”
• "What? "I looked to my mother for help, but she seemed as confused about that subject as I did “I only know one Russian, and I find it’s hard to judge an entire Nation based on one person.”
• "Rozanov seems to be a good example of Russian," my father insisted.
• "You work for Pyotr Rozanov, don't you?” Paris interrupted whatever my father's crazy line of thought was “What's he like as a boss? Does he treat you differently because you’re the boss's daughter?”
• "That's an excellent question," Omar smiled even more, with a strange glow in his eyes.
• What happened to him? Does he think Peter takes it easy on me because I'm a Navruz?
• "How does he treat you, Mary?”
• "He treats me like any other employee” I tried to answer, my father did not seem satisfied with the answer, but Paris was quicker.
• "But isn't it strange to work as a personal assistant? Don't you think it's beneath your abilities? I mean, you graduated over a year ago, and you're the heiress.”
• "I don't agree," Elena interrupted “You can learn a lot in this position, Mary is a short-time graduate, needs to get experience before she can get a better job.”
• "I think the girl can speak for herself, Elie," Omar interrupted.
• "I'm sorry," my mother offered me an encouraging look.
• "So, Mary?” Paris smiled.
• "My mother is right. I'm learning a lot” I answered.
• "But don't you think you could learn in another position too? "She insisted," Something that didn't involve getting coffee and answering phone calls?
• "Well, when I started I couldn't even get the right coffee,"I rolled my eyes “He asked with cream and no sugar, I brought it with sugar and no cream... Or whipped cream.”
• "Now you know well the kind of coffee he likes, I suppose” My father provoked me, causing me to blush.
• Well, I got better from the start.
• "I still make some mistakes," I said again, ignoring him, "But I struggle to get it right.
• "It is natural to make mistakes," My mother came to my rescue “When I worked for Omar, I always brought him green tea, and he hates. I couldn't record that information.”
• "And you two ended up getting involved," she declared with a smile on her face, "It's a beautiful story.
• "It is difficult to reconcile this kind of work with a parallel personal life," My mother explained.
• "Can you do this conciliation, Mary?” Paris questioned.
• I took a deep breath before answering that question, my mother assured me they wouldn't ask personal questions.
• "Well, I...
• "Her boyfriend is the work," my dad laughed," if that's what you want to know.”
• "Dad! "I exclaimed.
• What's wrong with him?
• "It's better to change the subject” My mother cast a meaningful look at her husband.
• We spent the rest of lunch in peace. I was no longer the target of the Paris questions and was able to concentrate on my food. That's when I remembered that I hadn't warned Pyotr that I was leaving or what time I'd be back. It had been ten minutes before the end of my lunch hour.
• I picked up my phone noting a message from him asking where I was.
• Great!
• "Can you excuse me? "I got up, leaving the table before my father protested.
• I dialed my boss's number in a hurry as soon as I got to the sidewalk and he answered the first touch.
• "Where are you? "He asked.
• "I'm sorry, my mother came in and was in a hurry," I justified myself “I forgot to tell you I was leaving.”
• "It doesn't matter, where are you?”
• "Now? "I frowned " At Le Bernie.”
• "I'll pick you up in ten minutes," he declared, "Wait for me at the entree.”
• He hung up before I could answer, I decided not to argue and just go get my stuff.
• "I'm sorry," I took my purse “I have to go.”
• "Any problems? "My mother asked.
• "Peter is coming for me," I explained, "He needs me.
• "Peter?” Paris looked at me confused.
• "Believe me, she better call him Peter," my mother explained to the young woman, "she just can't pronounce.”
• "Thanks for clarifying, Mom, but now I have to go.”
• "I'm sure you do," Omar murmured.
• Why is he being so weird?
• Well, I didn't have time to find out.