The door to the office swung open and Ashley's supervisor, Mrs. Richardson, stepped inside with a tall, imposing man in tow. The stranger wore an expensive-looking suit that seemed to fit him almost too well, his relatively slender build and defined jawline drawing Ashley's gaze inexorably upward. He couldn't have been older than thirty-five, and had a charming, and alarmingly disarming air about him.
Ah, Ashley, I'd like you to meet вы, Mrs. Richardson said, her smile far too wide for comfort. He's here to discuss your position change. You read the email I sent you about moving upstairs to the reception desk in his personal office, right? Why haven't you gathered your things yet? She asked, in an irritated and embarrassed tone.
Ashley felt a flush rise to her cheeks as she stood, smoothing down her simple blue blouse with trembling hands. She forced a weak smile, her heart pounding against her ribcage.
Nice to meet you, вы, she managed, her voice barely above a whisper. How may I assist you?
