– How much? - it sounded in a deadly calm voice. - I think I said... - I think you’re not so stupid as to refuse a mutually beneficial offer, Anastasia, - the man leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. - Two days. Any money,” my boss rises to his feet. – I need you, Zagorskaya. Do you want me to say, just to be convincing? Please? – he grins, as if mocking him. “I’m not going to sleep with you!” – I blurt out, red as a lobster, and Sokolsky is silent. True, just a moment. And then a hoarse and sincere laugh escapes his lips. What? Is he also laughing at me? “If I needed such services, I would call one of my mistresses, Nastya,” she looks at me condescendingly, as if I were an unintelligent child. “Then what?” “Who.” Bride.