Chapter 2 #2
She’s muttering something under her breath as she gives the valve an aggressive twist. The water flow adjusts, but she’s overcorrected. Instead of a gentle stream feeding the irrigation system, she’s created a miniature flood that’s spreading across the pool deck.
She scrambles to adjust the flow again, but her feet slip on the wet stone. She loses her balance, arms windmilling as she tries to stay upright. Without thinking, I move.
I catch her by the waist just as she’s about to hit the flagstones. For a moment, she’s pressed against my chest, and I feel the warmth of her body through her work clothes. She smells like sunshine and honest sweat, and nothing like the cloying perfumes I’m used to.
Her voice is steady despite what must have been a frightening moment. “Thank you. The valve was stuck, and I?—”
I help her regain her footing, noting the way she doesn’t cling to me or try to prolong the contact. Most women would have used the opportunity to their advantage. “You flooded the deck.”
She’s explaining rapidly, clearly worried about getting in trouble on her first day. “I’m sorry. I can clean it up right away. The irrigation system was backing up, and I thought if I could just adjust the pressure?—”
I raise my hand to stop her. “How long have you been working with irrigation systems?”
The question seems to surprise her. “Three years, give or take. I worked for a landscaping company in New York before I moved here. We maintained several high-end properties, so I got used to dealing with complex water systems.”
“And your assessment of this system?”
She gestures toward the valve assembly. “It’s sophisticated. Whoever designed it knew what they were doing, but it needs regular maintenance to function properly. The corrosion suggests it’s been neglected for a while.”
I nod, filing away this information. “Report to the main house tomorrow morning at eight. Ask for Mrs. Nykova.”
Her green eyes widen. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Eight o’clock. Main house. Mrs. Nykova will be expecting you.”
She frowns, making an adorable wrinkle at the top of her nose. “I don’t understand. Am I being transferred? Fired?”
Something that might be amusement flickers through me. “You’ll find out tomorrow.”
“Should I bring anything? My tools, or?—”
I turn away, then look back over my shoulder. “Just yourself. Clean up the water before you leave.”
In front of me, I hear Katya’s sharp intake of breath. She’s still standing by the car, watching this entire exchange with obvious displeasure.
She says as I rejoin her, “That was interesting.”
“Was it?”
Her voice carries a warning I choose to ignore. “You don’t usually involve yourself in personnel matters so directly.”
How would she know? She’s been in my home as my guest exactly three times now. I don’t challenge her on her assertion that she knows what I do though. Why bother? Instead, I opt for an obvious answer. “I don’t usually have employees flood my pool deck on their first day.”
She doesn’t look convinced, but Leonid is already in the car and clearly impatient to leave. She narrows her eyes at me. “Until next time.”
I watch their car disappear down the drive, then head directly to the security office. Valentin is waiting with coffee and a resigned expression.
He gestures toward the wall of monitors showing various angles of the estate grounds. “That well, huh?”
I pour myself coffee from the pot he keeps constantly brewing. “Leonid wants to place six men in our warehouse. Katya thinks she can manipulate me with guilt about honoring my father’s memory. Standard Nikitin tactics and theater.”
He grunts and nods. “Your response?”
I settle into the chair beside his desk, grateful for the familiar ritual of debriefing with the one person whose loyalty I don’t have to question. “No to the warehouse. No to the manipulation. Still yes to the engagement, unless I luck out and she calls it off.”
That makes him chuckle slightly. Valentin has been with the family since before my father’s death.
He’s older than me by five years, but he’s never challenged my authority or questioned my decisions.
In fact, he helped me during the time my uncle was in charge after Papa’s death before I came of age, keeping Yuri in line with help of other lieutenants, so I had a bratva group to inherit.
I didn’t get the stars on my chest until I was eighteen, but I was unofficially running the family from the time I was sixteen, when people stopped asking Uncle Yuri what to do, since he didn’t know his ass from his head when it came to doing what needed to be done.
Valentin’s role as consigliere is to advise and support, not to lead, and he’s never shown any ambition beyond that.
He pulls up something on his computer. “They’ll push back. The Nikitins don’t accept rejection gracefully.”
“Let them push. We have other options if they decide to make trouble.”
He turns one of the monitors toward me. “Speaking of which, I had the pool area incident pulled up. Thought you might want to see what happened.”
The security footage shows the new gardener struggling with the irrigation valve, exactly as I witnessed.
Seeing it from this angle, I notice details I missed before.
She approaches the problem methodically, testing different solutions before settling on the most direct approach.
The competent way she handles the tools despite the equipment’s obvious problems impress me. “She knows what she’s doing.”
Valentin brings up her file on a second monitor.
“Sarah Clark. She’s twenty-six and moved here from New York eight months ago.
Her previous employment was long-term with the same landscaping company.
She had good references and a clean background check.
No criminal history, no significant debt, and no family in the area. ”
I’m intrigued despite knowing I shouldn’t be.
I want to know more about her, which is a bad sign.
Katya couldn’t be sure, but she is right that I rarely get involved with the personnel.
If there’s hiring or firing to do, I leave that to Mrs. Nykova and let Valentin handle the background checks and security details.
I fight myself before asking, “Why did she leave New York?”
He scans for a minute. “The application just says ‘seeking new opportunities.’ Could be anything. Bad relationship, financial problems, or she wanted a change of scenery.”
I study her application photo. It’s a standard headshot, professionally taken but not expensive. She’s looking directly at the camera with a slight smile that seems genuine. “She doesn’t flinch.” The observation surprises me as much as it does Valentin.
“What?”
I look at him then back at her photo. “Most people flinch when I speak to them. She didn’t.”
Valentin looks at me with the expression he gets when he’s trying to figure out where my thoughts are heading. “Is that significant?”
I close her file and turn away from the monitors. “It might be. I want her reassigned.”
“To what?”
“My personal assistant. Have Mrs. Nykova brief her on office duties tomorrow morning.”
Valentin’s voice carries a warning I haven’t heard in a long time. “Yarik, she’s a gardener. She has no experience with office work and no clearance for sensitive information.”
I shrug. “Then she’ll learn.”
He’s really frowning now. “This isn’t like you. You don’t make impulsive personnel decisions.”
He’s right, and we both know it. Impulsive decisions are how people get killed in this business.
And yet… something about Sarah Clark has gotten under my skin in a way I don’t understand.
Maybe it’s the way she looked at me without fear, or the competent way she handled a difficult situation, or simply that she seems genuine in a world full of people who are constantly performing.
“Have Mrs. Nykova prepare an office on the second floor. Something with natural light.”
Valentin doesn’t argue, but there’s concern in his expression. “Should I run additional background checks? Contact her previous employers directly?”
“Do whatever you think is necessary.” I pause at the door. “Do it quietly. I don’t want her to know she’s being investigated.”
“Understood.”
He already has his phone in his hand when I add, “Keep watch on the Nikitins. Today’s meeting didn’t go the way they wanted, and that makes them unpredictable.”
He nods. “Already on it.”
I leave him to his work and return to my office, but I’m distracted by thoughts of the new gardener. Sarah Clark looked at me like I was just a man who’d helped her avoid a fall. There was nothing more and nothing less. When was the last time someone looked at me that way?
The question follows me through the rest of the afternoon, and I check the security monitors more often than usual. She’s back at work, spending two backbreaking hours mopping up the water mess with barely a break.
By the time she finishes for the day, I’ve made my decision. Sarah Clark interests me, and I haven’t been interested in anything new for a long time. Tomorrow morning, I’ll find out whether that interest is justified, or if it’s a mistake that could cost me everything I’ve worked to build.
I roll my eyes at the dramatic thought. I’ve spent too much time around Katya Nikitin and must be careful that her theatrics don’t wear off on me.