ilya as yuna’s assistant: ficlet !
that discovers she has a beautiful son and is like😍😍
The move from Boston to Ottawa had been almost as stressful as his first immigration process. It was less urgent and emotionally-driven, just a need to get away from the same life, everyday.
Two months before Ilya’s move, he started selling small things that he didn’t plan on bringing with him for extra cash when he eventually no longer had a job. He applied and applied to just about any position that guaranteed a livable income—preferably above forty-grand year.
Ilya, with the help of Svetlana, found a one-bedroom, one bathroom apartment with in-unit laundry that’s in a safe neighbourhood. The reviews from past tenants are mostly positive, save for the few complaints of minor problems. He doesn’t have much room to be picky.
The first month went by quickly with no replies on his applications. Panic settles in soon after that. How can he move countries without a solid plan? He’s already been approved for a work visa in Canada, can he just cancel that? But he’s already told his manager here in Boston that he is for sure leaving…
For a week, he doesn’t settle. Ilya checks his inbox religiously on every break, between meals, after he showers, whenever he can.
Just over two weeks before his one-way ticket to Ottawa, an email from Hollander Enterprises lights up Ilya’s phone screen.
After receiving your resume and letter, CEO Yuna Hollander would like to take a step forward with the hiring process.
Hollander Enterprises understands that you are not currently living and working in Canada. Mrs. Hollander is willing to conduct an over-the-phone interview to see if you’re the right fit for this position.
Please email her temporary assistant to confirm a date and time for the interview to take place.
Ilya could hardly believe his luck. The application had been a last-ditch effort when he realized that none of the other jobs that he went out of his way to look for were interested. Being a personal assistant surely is not the job he’d hoped for, but money is money.
A day later, Ilya is nervously pacing his bare living room. The couches and TV had been sold, leaving him with carpeted emptiness to fill.
He awaits for the clock to hit three in the afternoon. Then, Yuna would be free from her busy schedule for twenty minutes, and thankfully not a lunch break.
His phone buzzes urgently in his hand at three on the dot. Ilya swallows roughly, pressing the green accept button with a shaky thumb.
“Hello?” he utters, squeezing his eyes shut and cursing his accent.
“This is Ilya Rozanov?” a male voice asks robotically.
Of course Yuna Hollander herself wouldn’t be the one to call him. “Yes. Um— This is him.”
“Perfect. I’ll transfer you to Mrs. Hollander now, you’ll be on hold for a moment.”
“Alri—” Ilya doesn’t finish his reply before irritating music plays quietly from his phone. He sighs and leans against his kitchen counter.
The line clicks. “Hello, this is Yuna Hollander. And you are Ilya Rozanov?”
Ilya straightens up so fast that his knees ache. “Hi! Yes, yes this is Ilya.” He clenches his jaw and knocks his head back on a cabinet. Stupid, she already knows who you are.
Mrs. Hollander chuckles. “I’m sorry that we don’t have as much time as I’d have liked—my schedule has been so hectic lately!”
“Oh, that is completely fine—”
“So, I’ll keep the questions simple and not as loaded as I usually prepare.”
The interview is normal after that. Not nearly as formal as Ilya had anticipated it being. He discovers that Yuna Hollander herself is an immigrant that struggles in her day-to-day despite being a powerful woman. He finds this out, of course, after apologizing profusely for not understanding every single word that left her mouth, or not being able to answer each question as eloquently as he could in Russian.
He confesses that they were the only company to reach out to him with a promising offer. She tells him that they try to look for people that are in need of a place to start as well as qualified.
Twenty-two minutes fly by. Mrs. Hollander wraps up the call after that. “It was lovely speaking with you, Ilya. I’m positive that you’ll succeed through the pool of applicants and be hired. The process for this position goes quickly, though, so another email should be sent out within the next two days.”
“Thank you for the opportunity, Mrs. Hollander.”
She laughs. “You’re very welcome, Ilya! Have a nice day.”
Fast forward four weeks, and Ilya is slowly but surely furnishing his new apartment in Ottawa. He’s already went in for an in-person meeting with Mrs. Hollander and set a start date for his second week in the new city.
Transferring banks and getting his account balance converted into Canadian had been a nightmare that he hadn’t even thought about dealing with, but it’s all well and handled now.
His neighbours are nice and respectful. They honour the designated quiet hours and keep the building clean. Ilya smokes out on his balcony and away from the residents that live on either side of him when they’re taking advantage of their space.
The dress code as CEO Yuna Hollander’s personal assistant is formal. Although she had informed Ilya that slacks and a button-down will do for everyday wear, occasionally a tie if an event requires one.
His first day consists of a tour of the facility and a rundown from Mrs. Hollander’s temporary assistant, Jessica, of what his responsibilities will look like.
In short, he handles the CEO’s schedule, calls, organizing meetings, seeing clients before her, and the occasional off-site errand if she’s too busy to run it herself. His day, nine times out of ten, is eight hours sat at a desk just outside of Mrs. Hollander’s office, with paid overtime that he sees a lot.
After a month, Ilya grows comfortable in his new job, actually enjoys himself here, in Ottawa.
On days where, for someone who owns and runs a company, it’s slow, Ilya prefers to sit on the couch in Yuna’s (she insisted that Ilya calls her that) office and work from his laptop. The door is kept open so he’s able to hear the phone and see if anyone approaches his desk.
Yuna Hollander is a wonderful person to talk to. She’s passionate of her work, the charity that H.E. is associated with, doesn’t judge when Ilya struggles with his English, instead helps him find the words, and speaks of her husband and son as they’re her pride and joy.
It’s refreshing to see someone in such high power who cares.
One day, as Ilya is packing up to go home for the night, his phone vibrates in his pocket with a call. He pauses his task and fishes it out of his pocket.
It’s Yuna. Ilya’s eyebrows pinch together. She never calls my personal phone unless it’s urgent.
“Ilya! Sorry that I called your phone and not your desk, I wasn’t sure if you’d gone home already,” she says apologetically.
“I was just about to leave in the next ten minutes. What do you need me to do?” He wracks his brain for anything that he could’ve missed but he comes up with nothing.
“I’m caught up in a meeting in Montreal and I’ll be needing to stay overnight—” Yuna starts.
Ilya sits down in his chair and goes to turn his monitor back on. “You need me to book for one night at your usual hotel?”
“Oh, no, Ilya I can do that myself don’t worry!” She laughs. “No, I forgot my laptop in my office this morning before I left. I don’t want it sitting there overnight, so I’ll need you to bring it to my house for me, if that’s not an issue?”
A beat passes and Ilya blinks slowly. “To your home?”
“Yes. I’ve already called my son and he’ll be home to take it from you at the door.”
He’s been here for all of five months now and has managed to save up enough money for a decent car that doesn’t quit on him every other week. He’s been here for five months, and this is the first time Yuna has asked him to go to her house. It feels too close to mixing her work life and home life.
Ilya bites his lip. “Okay. I can do that.”
“Thank you so much, Ilya! I’ll text you my address and you can head over there as soon as possible, if you don’t mind. And don’t worry about gas; send me a receipt and I’ll reimburse you.”
Ilya truly has the nicest boss ever.
Fifty minutes later and it’s nearing seven at night. The sun is still high in the sky and beaming down on Ilya’s work clothes almost brutally.
He sits in his car, Yuna’s laptop safely in its bag on the passenger seat. His boss’s house is not the gated mansion or skyscraper penthouse that he’d imagined. It’s a little ways out of the city, only ten minutes after the limits.
The place is still gigantic and essentially a house-version of Yuna’s office. The ruggedness of natural elements paired with modern windows and angles, surrounded by trees and nature makes Ilya feel at ease and not out of place.
He sighs, grabs the laptop bag, and exits his car. Between closing the door behind him and reaching the top of the steps to the front door, Ilya had started sweating. He hastily rolls his sleeves up while simultaneously trying to knock on the door.
A few seconds pass with no answer. Ilya goes to knock again when the door opens, revealing Yuna’s son.
Now, she does have a picture of him on her desk, which Ilya is now realizing is not at all recent. He had been expecting a boy in elementary school, absolutely not someone his own age. Not the man that is staring at him expectantly with a stunning smile. Not the athletic shirt that’s straining around his biceps and tight at his chest. What the fuck?
“Hi! You’re my mom’s assistant, right?” Yuna will be hearing some choice words from Ilya, when he figures out how to disguise them.
Ilya nods. “Da. Ilya.” His eyes trace the way the man’s hair falls over his forehead, trying to be subtle as his gaze goes down—fuck are those freckles?
The man’s happiness is somehow radiant and Ilya feels his own cheeks lifting into a grin. He stretches his hand out for Ilya to shake.
“I’m Shane. Mom always tells us about how much she likes having you around,” Shane says and lets go of his hand. Ilya feels prideful that he’s helpful to this beautiful man’s mother. “Says that you make her days way easier.”
“Ah. It’s what I was hired to do, so I hope so,” Ilya says bashfully, a tone that he will revisit later.
Shane leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms distractedly. God, Ilya wants to take a bite of them. “You know, Dad and I really had to push for her to hire someone to help her out. Just last year, she was doing a lot of the things you do on her own while also keeping H.E. running. Relied on the general secretaries to remind her of stuff.”
Ilya nods again, shifting his feet. “Wow. I already do so much. Cannot imagine doing all of it.” It comes out a little stilted in a way he hopes he can blame on the language barrier. He would also like to think that the heat climbing up his neck is due to the sun and decidedly not from the attention that his boss’s son is gracing him with.
“Right?! Anyways, you probably just worked a super long, boring shift, so I won’t keep you!” Shane is standing fully again, still wearing that same, perfect smile.
Ilya shrugs at him. “It’s okay.” He hands over the laptop bag. “You are very pretty but probably off-limits.” In all honesty, that had meant to be an inside-thought and absolutely not something for Shane’s ears.
Not like he can take it back now without seeming like a loser or a coward. Both of which he does not want to look like in front of Shane Hollander, Yuna Hollander’s son.
Meanwhile, Shane has apparently short-circuited. “Uh—” Ilya has already painted on a confident grin that he hopes isn’t cocky or smug and turned on his heal to walk down the front steps.
“I will see you around, Shane!” Ilya calls over his shoulder.
“Yeah… Sure…” Shane mumbles to himself, then closes the door after a few moments.
Ilya practically tears his car door off and slams it shut behind him. Why the fuck did I say that? He spends his car ride home with the radio drowning out his spiralling about certainly being fired the next day when Yuna arrives in Ottawa.
In his apartment, he reluctantly checks his phone. A text and a call.
Yuna Hollander (1) Missed Call
Please call me. I promise you’re not in trouble.
The phone rings twice before Yuna picks up.
“I am sorry—” Ilya rushes out before his boss can tear him a new one.
Yuna scoffs, amused. “Ilya, I said that you’re not in any trouble. I just want to know what this is about you calling my son pretty, hm?” Ilya cheeks go aflame almost instantly at being teased about a supposed crush. “Him being off-limits?”
Ilya sighs. “I did not mean to say this out loud… He was talking and talking—” he grows frustrated with how hard it is so speak right now. “And— and then Shane says goodbye and I did not think!”
Yuna laughs, not unkindly. “My poor son was so embarrassed when he called me. I had to pry his side of the story out of him when he just clammed up.”
“Yes, oh. Maybe I’ll invite you to the events that you’re not required at… You two can mingle a bit.” Yuna is thinking out loud in the way that Ilya is used to her doing. A tiny bit different as she is now apparently setting her personal assistant up with her son. “Lord knows my Shane needs normal interactions with people his own age.”
She cuts him off. “That’s not up to you to decide, I’m afraid!” Ilya can hear her pleased smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow by noon, Ilya.”
He bites his lip and sighs again. “…See you tomorrow, Yuna,” he responds eventually.
The line goes dead and Ilya stares at his phone until it turns off. Well, at least he’s not fired.
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