Chapter 6 #2
“Of course not.” He stands and extends his hand again. “If you change your mind, you know how to reach me.”
I stand as well but don’t take his hand. “I won’t be changing my mind.”
His smile becomes strained. “You never know what the future holds. Markets change, circumstances evolve, and opportunities that seem unattractive today become essential tomorrow.”
The statement carries a threatening undertone that makes my instincts sharpen. “Perhaps. Good luck with your expansion plans, Mr. Sokolov.”
“Thank you, Mr. Barinov. I hope we’ll have the chance to do business together someday, one way or another.
” He walks away without looking back, but something about his parting comment sits uneasily with me.
The phrase “one way or another” suggests he’s not accustomed to accepting rejection gracefully.
On the drive back to the estate, Valentin asks, “How did it go? His body language was a little odd.”
“I noticed. He’s not legitimate. He was too polished, too generous with his terms, and too interested in our specific operations.”
He scowls. “Law enforcement?”
He didn’t feel like law enforcement, but I can’t rule that out. “Possibly. Or he’s working for someone who wants information about our shipping routes and security procedures.”
“What’s your read on him personally?”
I consider the question as Luco navigates through afternoon traffic. “Arrogant and used to getting his way. He’s the type who doesn’t handle rejection well.”
Valentin looks troubled. “Dangerous?”
“Potentially. Keep monitoring his activities, and flag anyone else who starts asking questions about our operations.”
“I will. Anything else?” He makes a note on his tablet.
“Yes. Run a deeper background check. I want to know who he’s really working for and what he was hoping to accomplish with this meeting.”
“Consider it done.”
By the time we reach the estate, my unease about Roman Sokolov has crystallized into active concern.
Men like him don’t typically disappear quietly when their initial approach fails.
They probe for weaknesses, look for alternative routes to their objectives, and sometimes resort to more direct methods of persuasion.
I need to make sure our security protocols are current and everyone understands the potential threat level has increased.
The main house feels different when I enter, quieter somehow, though I can’t identify what’s changed. Mrs. Nykova greets me with the afternoon’s messages and a status update on various ongoing projects, but my attention is already shifting toward Sarah’s office.
I tell myself I’m simply checking on her progress with the audit materials, making sure she hasn’t encountered any problems that need my attention. The rationalization feels thin even to me, but I maintain it as I walk down the hallway toward her door.
She’s at her desk with a stack of files spread around her, completely absorbed in whatever she’s reviewing.
Her hair is pulled back in a simple twist, and she’s wearing reading glasses I haven’t seen before.
The glasses make her look scholarly and serious, which shouldn’t be as attractive as I find it.
I knock on the doorframe, and she looks up with a professional smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Mr. Barinov. How can I help you?”
The return to formal address stings more than it should, but I suppose it’s necessary given what happened last night. “I wanted to check on your progress with the compliance review. Are you finding everything you need?”
“Yes, thank you. I’ve identified several minor discrepancies that should probably be addressed before the external audit, but nothing that appears to be serious.”
She turns her computer screen so I can see the spreadsheet she’s created, color-coded to highlight different types of issues. The organization is excellent considering her limited office experience, and her analysis appears thorough and accurate.
I’m genuinely impressed. “This is excellent work. How much more time do you think you’ll need?”
She pauses a second, as though mentally tabulating. “I should have everything completed by tomorrow afternoon, assuming no major complications arise.”
I inject approval into my tone. “Good. Let me know if you run into any problems.”
She nods but doesn’t say anything else.
I should leave. The professional check-in is complete, and lingering will only make the situation more complicated than it already is. Instead, I’m moving closer to her desk, drawn by a magnetism I don’t seem able to control.
She straightens in her chair, clearly aware of my proximity, but doesn’t say anything. The tension that built between us last night is still there, simmering beneath the surface of our careful professionalism.
I reach for her hand where it rests beside her keyboard, moving slowly and deliberately. She watches my approach but doesn’t pull away until the last moment, when she steps back from her chair and puts distance between us. Her voice is quiet but firm. “This is wrong.”
I could argue with her. I could point out my engagement is a business arrangement, and what’s between us has nothing to do with contracts or family obligations. I could remind her she was as eager for that kiss as I was.
Instead, I nod once and move to the chair beside her desk, picking up the nearest folder as if that was my intention all along. “You’re right. Let’s focus on the work.”
We sit side by side for the next hour, reviewing documents and discussing compliance issues with careful professionalism.
She explains her analytical process, shows me the patterns she’s identified, and asks intelligent questions about regulatory requirements.
She’s not working in a conventional way, but her method is working, so I don’t bother trying to force her to think about it a different way.
At one point, she mutters something under her breath about my handwriting being illegible, and I almost laugh. The comment is so normal, so unguarded, that it reminds me of how natural things felt between us before last night’s kiss.
I don’t touch her again during our work session, though the temptation is constant. Instead, I content myself with watching her concentrate, noting the way she bites her lower lip when she’s thinking, and the small sounds of satisfaction she makes when she solves a particularly complex problem.
She’s trying to hide how flustered she is by my presence, but I see it in the way she occasionally loses her train of thought or reaches for the wrong file. Knowing I affect her as much as she affects me is oddly thrilling.
When we finish reviewing the compliance materials, I stand to leave but pause at her door. “Sarah?”
She looks up from organizing the files on which we’ve been working. “Yes?”
“Thank you for your discretion about last night. I appreciate your professionalism.”
She flushes slightly but sounds composed when she says, “Of course.”
“This arrangement we have working together closely is important to me. I don’t want anything to jeopardize that.”
She meets my gaze directly for the first time today. “Neither do I.”
I nod. “Good. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I leave her office and return to my own but find it difficult to concentrate on anything else.
The conversation with Roman Sokolov seems less urgent now, though it shouldn’t.
My security concerns feel manageable compared to the growing complexity of my feelings for Sarah.
She’s right that pursuing anything between us would be wrong. She works for me, I’m engaged to someone else, and mixing personal and professional relationships rarely ends well. The rational part of my mind understands all of these facts perfectly.
The rest of me doesn’t care.
I want her with an intensity that’s becoming harder to ignore or rationalize away.
The kiss last night was a revelation, showing me possibilities I hadn’t allowed myself to consider.
She responds to me in ways that Katya never has, with genuine feeling rather than lifeless performance.
I’ve never kissed Katya like that, keeping our public exchanges perfunctory and private ones as nonexistent as possible, but there’s no way she’d rock my very existence like Sarah did.
More than that, she sees me as a person rather than a position. When she looks at me, I remember what it felt like to be human instead of just functional.
I can wait, I tell myself. I can maintain professional boundaries and appropriate distance.
I can resist the temptation to cross lines that shouldn’t be crossed, but as I sit in my office replaying the sound of her saying my name last night, I realize that waiting has an expiration date.
This attraction isn’t going away, and my self-control isn’t infinite.
Something will have to give, and soon. I recall Roman Sokolov’s parting words about opportunities becoming essential when circumstances change. Perhaps he was more perceptive than I gave him credit for. Circumstances have already changed more than I’m willing to admit.
Sarah Clark has become essential in ways I never intended to allow. If I’m not careful, she’ll become more than I can allow, and a weakness a man like me can’t afford.