particularly demanding clients here to discuss business, having seated them exactly facing a wall densely covered with certificates and photos.
And in honesty, she had a lot to be proud of. Only Lera had brought Irina Konstantinovna seven copies of her language certificates and diplomas. Other girls, too, were also not limited to one language or one educational institution.
Along with the diplomas, Irina Konstantinovna also hung particularly successful photos of events where her "kids" had the honour to participate. Exactly like a grandmother, proud of the success of her grandchildren. Any accusations of sentimentality were dismissed by Irina Konstantinovna as nothing but dirty insinuations. Of course.
There were three Leras there. One in a formal suit – from some Terribly Important Business Negotiations, one in an evening gown – from the premiere of a film in Venice, and one in a fancy outfit – from a fashion show in Milan.
Lera was uncomfortable with this "showcase" where she and her colleagues were displayed as simple products. Many girls disapproved of this Glory Wall, but there was nothing they could do about it. Irina Konstantinovna was deaf and blind to requests to remove the photos and leave only the diplomas.
Their boss was completely devoid of mercy when it came to ways of increasing profit. By the way, Irina Konstantinovna unfailingly conducted the personnel selection process personally, and did it with such care and attention as if she were choosing not just translators but, at the very least, secret agents.
Staff seriously suspected that her preferences were not only based on the academic achievements and merits of candidates, but more than that on their external qualities and charisma. Even their sole male interpreter, turkophone-Marat, was a notably handsome guy. This is without even mentioning the attractiveness of the girls.
Naturally, the boss denied having such a biased attitude towards applicants, pointing out that not all employees looked like they were from the podium. Technically, it was true. Not all the girls were long-legged makaroni-models with a hungry look, but Irina Konstantinovna was still lying.
Lera, with her bright red curls turquoise eyes, struck customers on the spot. Alissa was so petite and feminine that everyone fussed over her like a delicate crystal vase. Sveta simply charmed everyone with her warm tenderness, and clients usually looked at her, rather than the contracts.
Inessa, full-blooded, was so all roundly beautiful that men hardly looked above her cleavage, but since she specialized in Arabic, clients – due to their national preferences – permanently salivated over her exceeded "thirty-three inches" and strictly kept "twenty-four".
As soon as Inessa lowered her thick silver braids that played around her coccyx when she walked, they signed documents without looking, confusing Arabic script for Cyrillic when writing their own names. In general, Inessa's non-standard appearance was absolutely appropriate, Irina Konstantinovna had her advantages here too.
Lera waved off annoying thoughts about Inessa's admirers out of her head and plopped down in her usual spot opposite the boss. Irina Konstantinovna quickly rifled through a stack of employment contracts and handed Lera a pile of papers. The girl quickly scanned them and signed both copies. There wasn't much to review.
“Well, now tell me more about your secret Santa”, Irina Konstantinovna said sternly, placing the contracts in a separate folder.
“Well… I don't even know where to begin…” Lera hesitated.
“At the beginning!”
Lera jumped slightly at her sharp voice, but when she looked into the woman's eyes, she saw genuine concern and worry in them. Overall, despite all her flaws, Irina Konstiantinovna took care of her employees like a mother hen.
“I often receive small gifts from someone at work. It came today”, Lera blurted out.
“And you have no idea who it is from?” The boss asked in disbelief.
Lera vigorously shook her head, making her red hair even more messy.
“What about a signature?” the boss pressed.
“Firstly, I thought it was one of my coworkers, but no one admitted to it. The packages were always delivered by a courier, according to the girls…”
“A courier? According the girls?” Irina Konstantinova's eyes narrowed. “So, do you mean the presents have never been delivered to you personally?”
“Well… Y-yes…” Lera stammered.
She suddenly realized this simple fact too. True, for over a year and a half, the courier had never delivered gifts to her in person. All that while, the box had either magically appeared on her desk or been passed on by one of the employees.
“What about any notes?”
“There were always stickers on the boxes with my name printed on them. That’s all.”
“Hmm…” Irina Konstantinovna tapped her manicured fingers on the table. "How long has it been going on?" she asked almost without interest.
“For about a year and a half.”
The woman jumped up, "Anonymous, fabulously expensive gifts have been arriving for a year and half, and you aren't surprised? Are you crazy? Russia isn’t a habitat for any Robin Hoods!"
“Until today, it has been just worthless things!” Lera interrupted her again, "Cheap flowers, I don’t know, a box of chocolates, a little key chain with an angel on it. Really, it’s never been anything so expensive!"
The woman slumped slightly in her chair and bit her lip. "Have you told anyone?" she asked more calmly.
"Yes," said the girl sadly. "To my mom."
"And?"
"She said, 'Don't worry about it! What’s the problem? They give, you take.'"
The boss chuckled dejectedly, rolling her eyes slightly. Leaning towards Lera, Irina Konstantinovna began to speak in an admonishing tone. "Normal men don't send flowers without a note for a year. Courting openly for a year is something I can understand. There are some men who act like unbelievably stubborn screw-horned sheep. But doing it quietly? I don't believe it. What if it's some kind of maniac, have you considered that?"
"But no one kills for a box of chocolates." Lera said spreading her hands.
“Actually, I don't know. I didn't communicate with maniacs much. But, please note, there isn't merely a box of chocolates on the table right now!” Irina Konstantinovna pointed her finger at the door of the conference room. “Can you imagine how much these earrings cost?"
Lera shook her head and bit her lower lip. It felt like she was being scolded for something that wasn't her fault.
“Red gold, diamonds, fluorite of the exact colour of your eyes’. I would say they are worth five thousand dollars.” Lera looked at her boss, hiccupping. And then Irina Konstantinovna nodded and said, "Maybe even more."
Lera sat there, mouth open, not knowing what to say. She had only ever seen those sums in movies. The boss chewed her lips and casually asked, "What are you doing this weekend?"
Lera felt scared. This is it… Now she will offer some kind of work in such a way that it will be impossible to dodge… Poor Sveta's fate has caught up with Lera right on the very edge of her vacation! Lera started babbling confusedly in fright:
“Irina
