The intercom phone rang. The secretary picked up the phone and said softly:

“Monsieur Bigard, I am listening to you. She raised her eyes to the visitor. Yes, she is here. Waiting. She took a pencil and began to quickly write down something in a notebook. - I will find it. I remember. As usual? Good. And what will be the orders regarding the visitor? Should I escort her to Monsieur Bensalam's office? She opened her eyes in surprise. - To your office? But…” She glanced quickly at the girl. — Yes, I understood everything.

- Was I called? Katrin jumped up from her chair and dropped her bag, sank down on her haunches and began to pick up fallen photographs from the floor. - Let's go now, huh?

“Sit down!” snapped the secretary, suddenly losing her patience, then added more quietly: “…those.

She got up from the table and silently walked into the next office, from where she left only a few minutes later with a stack of multi-colored folders.

“You’ll have to wait a little longer,” she said as she passed through the next door. “And this, of course, is none of my business, but I would advise you to remove this hairpin,” apparently, she decided in this way to smooth out her harshness.

As soon as she disappeared behind the door, Catherine ran to the mirror and began to preen: she pulled the hairpin from her hair, allowing it to flow freely over her shoulders, wiped the crumbling mascara under her right eye, pinched her cheeks, rubbed the remnants of lipstick with her lips. The door opened and the secretary returned. She stopped and looked at the girl for a long time, as if she wanted to say something else, but apparently she changed her mind, pursed her lips and went to her desk, throwing:

- It's much better that way. You will be called soon.

The spacious bright room with floor-to-ceiling panoramic windows was flooded with sunlight. Leather and expensive materials of the same color range - light gray, cold color - were used as interior decoration of the office. Light, translucent, matching tulle was shifted to one side on each window. And near one of them stood Maxim Bigard-Monpier, the general director and owner of the Compi-Max company, which he inherited from his father, Lucien Bigard, who untimely left this world.

The man admired the view from the window, watching what was happening on the streets of the city, and pondered over an important proposal: to merge two companies, one producing computers, and the other producing components for them. It was necessary to make a choice: whether it would be a merger of two large companies with the subsequent takeover of one of them, or a merger, in which one of the merging companies (the main one, Compi-Max) would continue to operate, while the other would immediately lose its independence and cease to exist. as a legal entity. This deal of the century has been talked about for a long time, even before the tragic death of Bigar Sr.

"What is it, what is it - everything is one!" Maxim pursed his lower lip in displeasure.

He liked Dominique Leroy - strong-willed, a little rough, and sometimes stubborn CEO and founder of Digital-I. This man had owned his company for a long time, when Maxim's father was just laying the first bricks of his future prosperous business.

Behind the owner of the office there was a majestic table, the floor was decorated with a solid carpet, tall cabinets to the ceiling, hanging lamps, a coffee table standing a little to the side, and a pair of luxurious easy chairs for visitors, in which two of his friends were now sitting - co-owners and directors of this company .

“No one requires you to make a decision right now,” Italian-born Enzo Masnada, a short, burning brunette with green eyes and dark skin, relaxed back in his chair and gracefully crossed his legs. “But it’s not worth the hassle anymore. You understand, I need to give an order to my people so that they begin to prepare the relevant documents; make sure you don't miss anything important.

- I understand! Maxim folded his arms across his chest and looked at his friend. But you don't need to rush me.

“Max,” Enzo couldn’t calm down, “our competitors are just waiting for Monsieur Dominique to refuse to cooperate with us.

I need a few more days! the CEO said adamantly, returning to contemplating the view from the window.

- But…

“I think,” said a tall, thin man of Arab appearance, interrupting his assertive friend and stopping him with a calming gesture, “Maxim should check everything again and double-check everything. His large, almond-shaped black eyes looked serious. — But I also believe that by the end of this week we should still give an answer to the lawyers of the Digital-I company.

“And we will definitely give it,” Maxim smiled barely perceptibly, distracting himself from his difficult thoughts. It was evident that such a delay was to his liking. Let's start the interview already.

“Still, I think it’s better for me to take the girl with me. Arno rose decisively from his chair. “Moreover, Master Clement asked for it, and this is worth something.

“That's why you will meet her in my office,” Maxim turned to face him and gestured for his friend to return back to the chair. “Each of us owes something to this man, and the fact that he personally asked for someone arouses considerable interest in me. He glanced at his disgruntled friend. “What do you say, Enzo? Are you also curious who Monsieur Beauchard sent to us?

- To me? the man asked, sliding down even deeper in his chair and comfortably arranging his head on the back. The piercing gaze of green eyes settled on the CEO. - Frankly, it doesn't matter.

There was a soft knock on the office door.

“Come in,” Arno invited and sank into an armchair, looking at the entrance in anticipation.