Chapter 10
Yarik
T hree days have passed since Sarah whispered those three words against my chest in this very office, and I still haven’t responded. She doesn’t seem to expect me to, which should be a relief. Instead, I’m irritated that she expects so little from me that my silence doesn’t even wound her.
Or maybe it does, and she’s just better at hiding it than I am at admitting what those words did to me.
Sarah sits at the small conference table I’ve had moved into my office, reviewing quarterly compliance reports.
She’s been withdrawn since that morning, acting professionally and composed, if distant, but I catch glimpses of something else when she thinks I’m not watching. Pain, maybe, or resignation.
I should feel grateful she’s not pushing for a response or making our situation more complicated than it already is. Instead, I want to shake her, to demand she fight for what she told me she feels and make this harder for me.
The engagement party is tomorrow night. After months of delays and excuses, I’ve run out of reasons to postpone what feels increasingly like my own execution.
I review the final guest list Katya submitted this morning while Sarah works on her own projects. Eighty-seven people, which is more than we originally discussed. Several names I don’t recognize despite my familiarity with most Nikitin associates catch my attention.
Valentin appears in my doorway without knocking, a habit that usually irritates me but today provides welcome distraction. He carries his laptop and looks like he comes bearing unpleasant news.
“The security briefing.” He settles into the chair across from my desk, barely glancing at Sarah.
Over the past few weeks, he’s clearly realized the nature of my relationship with her, but he’s too professional to comment directly, and he takes her presence in stride.
He doesn’t discuss sensitive bratva business in front of her though.
Just security concerns and vaguer issues.
“We need to discuss tomorrow night’s protocols. ”
I gesture for him to proceed while Sarah continues working on her compliance reports, but she’s certainly listening to every word.
“Katya already has unrestricted access to the estate, which creates some vulnerabilities.” Valentin opens his laptop and pulls up a floor plan of the main house. “Some of her guests may be looking to gather intelligence she hasn’t been able to obtain yet.”
I frown. “Such as?”
“Security layouts, vault access codes, or private wing entry points.” He highlights several areas on the digital map. “These things would be valuable for future operations.”
Yes, they would, but can I expect her associates to use advantages against me if I’m marrying her? I don’t know, which bothers me. I’d prefer a clear threat identify itself easily. “Recommendations?”
“I have men sweeping the estate for any surveillance devices that might have been placed during previous visits. We should also limit unsupervised movement during the event and assign discreet shadows to anyone we don’t have complete background information on.”
I study the floor plan, noting the areas Valentin has marked as particularly sensitive. “How many men do you need?”
“Six for interior coverage and four for perimeter watch.” He makes notes on his laptop. “I’ll coordinate with estate security to ensure seamless coverage.”
“Do it.” I close the laptop and hand it back to him. “What about catering arrangements?”
“The original company had to cancel due to a kitchen fire. We need a replacement by tomorrow afternoon.”
Sarah looks up from her compliance work, and something flickers across her expression before she speaks, as though she’s reluctant to help with the engagement party. Who can blame her? “My roommate’s employer handles high-end events. Hartley Catering. They’re reliable and discreet.”
A flicker of pain crosses her face before she smooths it away with professional composure. She’s just offered help planning the party that will celebrate my engagement to another woman, and she realizes exactly what that means.
“Contact them.” I make the decision without hesitation, hating the way Sarah’s face goes blank. “If they can handle the event on short notice, hire them.”
Valentin nods and makes another note. “Anything else?”
“Yes. I want detailed background reports on every name I’ve flagged from the guest list. If anyone has questionable connections or unclear motives, I want to know before they set foot on the property.”
“Consider it done.”
After Valentin leaves, Sarah and I work in silence for another hour. She organizes data while I review contracts and correspondences, both of us pretending the tension in the room isn’t suffocating.
Around six o’clock, she begins gathering her materials. “I should head home. It will be a long day tomorrow.”
The carefully neutral way she refers to my engagement party makes my jaw clench. “Sarah?”
She pauses but doesn’t look at me. “Yes?”
“About what you said the other day?—”
“You don’t need to respond.” She finally meets my eyes, and I see walls there that weren’t present before. “I shouldn’t have said it. It was inappropriate given the circumstances.”
“That’s not?—”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” She heads for the door with same composed efficiency that’s probably faked. “Good luck with the party.”
She’s gone before I can find words to explain what I can’t even explain to myself. I love her. The knowledge is inescapable but admitting it out loud makes this already tricky situation that much worse.
If I tell her how I feel, everything changes. The engagement becomes impossible to justify, even as a business arrangement. The careful distance I’ve maintained between my personal desires and family obligations collapses completely.
I’m not sure it hasn’t collapsed already.
Later that evening, I walk the estate perimeter with Arseny and Pavel, two of my most trusted security personnel. The grounds look peaceful in the fading light, but tomorrow night they’ll be filled with potential threats disguised as wedding guests.
“I want you on the Volkov brothers.” I point toward the main terrace where cocktails will be served. “They’re arms dealers from Prague. They’re legitimate on paper, but they’ve been asking too many questions about our shipping routes.”
Arseny nods. “Discreet observation?”
“Mostly. They should feel welcome but watched to lessen any inclination to act poorly.”
We continue around the garden path toward the pool area. “Pavel, you’ll shadow Anton Kozlov. He’s supposedly a cultural attaché, but intelligence suggests he’s FSB.”
“What am I looking for?”
“Photography, detailed questions about security measures, or attempts to access restricted areas.” I stop near the pool house where Sarah and I first kissed, the memory making my chest ache. “Keep an eye on anyone who seems more interested in the estate than the engagement.”
We spend another hour reviewing coverage areas and communication protocols. By the time we finish, I’m confident we’ll catch anyone attempting intelligence gathering, but the larger question remains. Why am I going through with an engagement I don’t want to a woman I don’t love?
The answer should be simple. Family obligations, business stability, fulfilling my father’s old plan, and maintaining crucial alliances.
They’re the same reasons my father would have given, applying the same logic that’s guided every major decision I’ve made since inheriting leadership of our organization.
Sarah has complicated that logic in ways I’m still trying to understand.
Back in my office, I find myself staring at the contract I’ve been avoiding for weeks.
The marriage agreement with the Nikitins, formally binding two families in an alliance that makes strategic sense on every level except the personal one, sits like a brick of C4 on my desk with the way I handle it.
I’ve signed thousands of contracts over the years. This should be no different. The terms are favorable, the benefits clear, and the risks manageable.
As though she senses I’m looking at the contract, my phone buzzes with a text from Katya: “Looking forward to tomorrow night and finally signing the contract. I have a special surprise planned.”
I stare at the message, wondering what surprise Katya considers special and if I want to know. Everything about tomorrow feels like a trap, but I struggle to identify the specific threat or figure out how to avoid it.
Another text arrives, this one from Sarah: Nina confirmed the catering arrangement. They’ll be there at 4 p.m. to set up. I told her I’d pass along the message to save her the extra step of contacting Valentin to contact you.
The simple professionalism of her message irritates me more than Katya’s coy hints.
Sarah is pulling away to protect herself from the inevitable pain of watching me get engaged to someone else.
It’s the smart thing to do, and the rational response to an impossible situation.
I should be happy she’s coping and making it easy on me.
I hate how smart and rational she’s being.
I type and delete several responses, none of them appropriate for the professional relationship we’re supposed to maintain. Finally, I send back a simple “Thank you” and set aside the phone.
The contract sits open on my desk, waiting for a signature tomorrow night that will change everything.
Once I sign it, the joint venture between our families that the engagement represents becomes legally binding.
The wedding will follow within six months, and whatever this is between Sarah and me will become nothing more than an affair that has to end.
I’ve always known what to do in business situations. Every decision I’ve made as head of this family has been strategic and ultimately successful. Personal feelings don’t factor into those choices, but this feels personal in ways I didn’t anticipate.
I think about Sarah’s quiet confession three days ago. She said she loved me like she was sharing a secret she couldn’t keep anymore. I think about the pain in her expression when she recommended Nina’s catering company, knowing she was helping ensure my engagement party wasn’t disrupted.
Most of all, I think about the way she looked at me when I didn’t respond to her declaration, like she expected the rejection but hoped for something different.
I should have told her I love her too. The words have been there for weeks, maybe longer, but admitting them feels like acknowledging a vulnerability I can’t afford.
Men in my position don’t get to choose love over duty. We don’t get to prioritize personal happiness over family obligations. We certainly don’t get to blow up strategic alliances because we’ve fallen for someone who was never supposed to matter.
Except Sarah does matter. She matters more than the Nikitin alliance, more than business stability, and more than anything I thought was important before I met her.
The realization stuns me. I’m in love with a woman I can’t have and planning to marry someone I don’t want, all in service of obligations that suddenly feel meaningless.
I close the contract without signing it and walk to the window overlooking the gardens. Tomorrow night, I’ll smile and play the role of devoted fiancé and have to sign the wretched contract with Katya as Leonid and the lawyers oversee it.
The thought makes me sick.
My phone rings, interrupting my brooding. Valentin’s name appears on the screen, so I answer.
“The background checks came back.” His voice carries tension. “We have some concerns.”
“What concerns?”
“Three of the guests on Katya’s list have connections to European intelligence services. Two others have questionable ties to arms dealers we’ve been avoiding. Most are probably legitimate, but we should keep watch.”
I move away from the window. “Any immediate threats?”
“Nothing that suggests danger to you personally, but some of these people will definitely be gathering intelligence while they’re here. I recommend we proceed with the security plan we discussed and perhaps add a few more men to shadow.”
“Agreed. Anything else?”
“One name I couldn’t get complete information on is Roman Sokolov. He’s listed as a business associate of the Nikitins, but his background is surprisingly thin. It could be nothing, but it’s worth keeping an eye on.”
I remember my previous meeting with him, stirring unease, but Valentin doesn’t seem overly concerned. “You remember my meeting with him, and my impression, so add him to the watch list.”
“I just did.” His voice changes slightly, become less brisk and more concerned. “The party is still on schedule for tomorrow night?”
I stiffen, sensing he’s subtly asking me if this is what I really want. Or perhaps I’m projecting my thoughts onto him. Either way, I keep my tone firm. “Yes. Everything proceeds as planned.”
Without giving him a chance to ask more uncomfortable questions, I hang up and return to my desk, where the unsigned contract waits.
The marriage agreement with the Nikitins, formally binds our two families in an alliance that makes strategic sense on every level except the personal one.
Tomorrow night, I’ll sign this agreement.
I’ll put the ring on Katya’s finger and smile for the cameras while my heart breaks.
The woman I love will probably leave me, and rightfully so.
I pick up the contract one more time, scanning the terms that will govern the rest of my life.
Marriage within six months. Joint business ventures.
Children within three years. It’s a future mapped out in legal language that leaves no room for love, and I’m certain love can never grow between Katya and me.
I set aside the contract without signing it. I’ll deal with it all tomorrow while wallowing in what I want but can’t seem to justify having tonight.