Chapter 2
Yarik
T he lunch meeting with the Nikitins starts exactly how I expected it would, with Katya’s father arriving twenty minutes late and offering no apology. Leonid Nikitin walks into my dining room like he owns it, surveying the space like he’s looking for weaknesses to exploit.
He nods once in my direction before taking the seat across from me without waiting to be invited. “I trust you’re prepared to discuss the terms we outlined.”
I pour myself more coffee, not offering him any. Small power plays matter in relationships like ours, and I won’t pretend this is a social visit. “I’m prepared to listen.”
Katya follows her father into the room a moment later, her steps smooth and her body graceful.
I’m sure she’s been trained since childhood to use her beauty as a weapon.
She’s wearing a cream-colored dress, and her smile is painted on in such a way that only suggests warmth. It doesn’t really give any.
She leans down to press a light kiss against my cheek, and I catch the scent of her expensive perfume. It’s strong and too sweet, and it makes me want to step away from her immediately. “Good afternoon, darling.”
I don’t move. Instead, I let her perform her little show of affection while studying her father’s reaction. Leonid watches us with approval, clearly pleased his daughter is playing her part so well. I keep my voice neutral and professional. “Katya. You look well.”
She settles into the chair beside me, close enough that her knee brushes against mine under the table. “Thank you. I’ve been looking forward to this meeting all week.”
The lie rolls off her tongue so smoothly that I almost admire the skill involved. Katya doesn’t look forward to anything that doesn’t directly benefit her ambitions, and this lunch is pure business disguised as family planning.
My own father would be here if he were still alive, but I’ve been handling the Barinov interests alone for well over a decade now. Sometimes, I miss having someone to share the burden with but mostly, I prefer the control that comes with making decisions without consultation.
Leonid pulls a leather portfolio from his briefcase and spreads several documents across the table. “Shall we begin? I’ve prepared the preliminary agreements for our new venture.”
The “new venture” is a luxury import firm that will serve as a front for moving products that fall into legal gray areas. We’ll focus mostly on items like art, jewelry, and rare books that can cross borders without attracting too much attention if the paperwork is handled correctly.
I review the contracts while Katya and her father wait in silence.
The terms are reasonable on the surface, but there are subtle clauses buried in the legal language that would give the Nikitins more control than we originally discussed.
I tap one section with my pen. “These warehouse arrangements aren’t what we agreed on.
You’re proposing to station six of your men at the facility permanently. ”
Leonid’s tone suggests this should be obvious. “For security purposes. We’re talking about valuable merchandise, Yarik. It needs proper protection.”
“My security is more than adequate.”
Katya’s voice carries just a hint of condescension. “I’m sure it is, but this venture represents a significant investment for both our families. Surely you understand our desire to protect that investment?”
I look at her directly for the first time since she sat down. Her blue eyes are cold despite her warm smile, and there’s clear scheming behind every expression she makes.
I set aside the contracts and lean back in my chair. “What I understand is you want to place surveillance inside my operation. That wasn’t part of our original discussion.”
Leonid spreads his hands in a gesture that’s meant to appear reasonable. “Surveillance is such an ugly word. We prefer to think of it as ensuring mutual accountability.”
“Call it whatever you want. The answer is no.”
Katya places her hand on my arm, her fingers warm against my skin. “Perhaps we could compromise? Three men instead of six?”
I move my arm away from her touch, making the rejection clear without being overtly rude. “The number isn’t the issue. The principle is.”
Leonid’s eyebrows rise slightly. “The principle of trust? How interesting, coming from a man who’s asking us to trust him with our family’s reputation.”
The implied threat hangs in the air between us. The Nikitins have a long reach and influential connections throughout Eastern Europe. They could make business difficult for the Barinovs if they chose to, but they’d also lose access to the American markets I control.
I meet his gaze steadily. “Trust is earned, not negotiated.”
Leonid begins gathering his documents, signaling this meeting is over. “Indeed. Perhaps we should table this discussion until we’ve both had time to reconsider our positions.”
I stand, making it clear I won’t be reconsidering anything. “Perhaps we should.”
Katya rises as well, running her hands over her dress to smooth it down. “I hope this disagreement won’t affect our personal relationship, Yarik.”
The question comes out sharper than I intended, but I don’t regret it. “What personal relationship?”
Her smile falters for just a moment before snapping back into place. “Our engagement, of course. The plans we’ve been making for our future together.”
“Those plans were made by our fathers. Not by us.” It irks me that my father floated the idea of a marriage merger between the families when I was just twelve, and she was eight.
They never got around to formalizing anything before my father was killed when I was thirteen, but Leonid had fixated on the idea all these years and now, so has Katya.
Not because she wants me but what I represent and offer to their family.
Her voice takes on a wounded quality that might be convincing if I didn’t know better. “Surely you want to honor your father’s memory? He...both our fathers...believed our marriage would bring our families together in peace.”
I curl my lip slightly. “I believe in honoring my father. I don’t believe peace built on surveillance and mutual suspicion is worth having or honors anyone though.”
Leonid clears his throat, drawing our attention back to him. “Young people often need time to appreciate the wisdom of their elders. I’m confident you’ll both come to see the value in the arrangements we’ve proposed.”
He heads toward the door, clearly expecting Katya to follow. She hesitates for a moment, looking at me with something that might be genuine disappointment. “I thought you were different, Yarik, and more sophisticated than the old men with their endless suspicions and power games.”
“Disappointment is part of growing up, Katya.”
She flinches at the dismissal, and for a split second, I see real anger flash across her features before she regains control. “This isn’t over.”
I nod. “No, it probably isn’t.” How can it be when I’ve already agreed to the engagement, though we haven’t signed anything formal yet, just like with this contract?
It’s the price of the merger with Leonid, and it will bolster our coffers and positions in Europe.
My father once thought it was a good idea, which is the only reason I even considered it when Leonid came to me.
It makes business sense, but there’s no connection between Katya and me.
Good. The last thing I want is to be shackled with emotional ties to someone. I have a tiny circle of people who matter to me enough that losing them would be devastating. I don’t intend to expand that circle.
I walk them to the front entrance, maintaining the pretense of courtesy even though the meeting accomplished nothing. Leonid has already moved ahead to their waiting car, but Katya lingers under the stone awning, clearly hoping for a private word.
She steps closer, dropping her voice to what she probably thinks is a seductive whisper. “Yarik, I understand you’re frustrated with the business arrangements, but that doesn’t mean we can’t find common ground personally. We could make this work if you’d just give us a chance.”
I move past her toward the car, making it clear the conversation is over. “There is no ‘us,’ Katya. There’s a business arrangement that may or may not prove beneficial to both our families, contingent on our engagement, which is contingent on agreeing to terms. See the issue?”
“I do, but you’ve already agreed to the engagement.” She follows, her heels clicking against the stone. “If you back out now, you’re making a mistake. This alliance could give you everything you’ve ever wanted.”
“I doubt that.”
She makes it sound like a promise and a threat. “We’ll speak again soon.”
I watch her walk toward the car, but instead of getting in immediately, she takes a detour past the pool area.
Movement near the irrigation system catches my attention.
The new gardener is there, still working on the valve assembly, her work clothes already showing the effects of a long day dealing with corroded pipes and muddy water.
Katya pauses near the pool’s edge, close enough to the kneeling woman that conversation would be natural.
The gardener looks up and speaks to her, though I can’t hear what she says from this distance.
Katya turns slightly, glances at the woman with a calculating look she gets when she’s assessing something beneath her notice, then simply looks away without responding.
She continues walking as if the woman never spoke, disappearing around the corner of the pool house with the same unhurried grace she arrived with.
The dismissal is so pointed and deliberate that it makes my jaw tighten. I’m not sure why I follow at a distance, perhaps planning to chastise Katya for rudeness, but my attention is focused on the gardener who’s now turned back to her work with obvious irritation.