Page 9

I hesitate, glancing at him. His tone is casual, but his gaze is sharp, and I can’t shake the feeling that he’s genuinely interested. Still, I’m not sure how much I want to share. “I’m a teacher,” I say, keeping it simple.
He tilts his head slightly, his eyes narrowing just a fraction. “What kind of teacher?”
“Elementary,” I reply, glancing out the window. “Kindergarten, mostly.”
“Ah,” he says, his tone softening. “That suits you.”
I blink, turning back to him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You seem patient,” he says with a faint smile, “and kind. Qualities not everyone has.”
I don’t know why, but the compliment catches me off guard. “Well, it’s not as glamorous as what you do,” I say, deflecting.
“No,” he agrees, his smirk returning. “But I’d argue it’s more important.”
Before I can decide how to respond to that, my phone buzzes in my lap, the screen lighting up with a name I’d hoped to avoid for a little longer: Randall. My stomach twists.
“Excuse me,” I mutter, swiping to answer.
“Where are you?” Randall’s voice barks through the line, loud and agitated.
“I’m on my way,” I say quickly, trying to keep my tone calm. “There was an issue with my flight, but I’m driving to New York now. I’ll be there?—”
“You better be!” he cuts me off. “Do you have any idea how much pressure I’m under right now? I can’t handle this on my own, Lila! You should’ve been here hours ago!”
“I couldn’t control the flight delay?—”
“I don’t care!” he snaps, his words sharp and grating. “If you’re not here on time, this whole thing will fall apart, and guess who’s going to take the blame? Not me!”
The line goes dead before I can respond. I stare at my phone, stunned, the weight of his words settling heavily on my shoulders.
“Trouble?”
I jump slightly, turning to find Mikhail watching me. His expression is calm, but there’s a glint of something dangerous in his eyes.
“Just my boss,” I say, forcing a weak smile.
His eyebrows lift slightly. “Your boss is the one who just yelled at you?”
I flush, realizing he must have heard the entire conversation. “Yeah. He’s…not the most patient person.”
“Who is he?”
I hesitate, not sure why I feel reluctant to explain. But Mikhail’s gaze is unrelenting, and the words spill out before I can stop them. “Randall. He’s my school principal. There’s this big educational conference happening in New York, and I’m supposed to be there to help run things. Except he dumped most of the responsibilities on me last minute, so now it’s my problem if anything goes wrong.”
Mikhail leans back in his seat, his expression unreadable. “Skip it.”
I blink at him, certain I misheard. “What?”
“Skip it,” he repeats, his tone firm. “Why go through the trouble? Let him handle it himself.”
“That’s outrageous,” I say, shaking my head. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I have a responsibility,” I argue, my voice rising slightly.
“Are you one of the organizers?” he asks, his brow arching.