Chapter 11
Sarah
I ’m gathering my things to leave at five o’clock when Mrs. Nykova appears in my office doorway with the same composed expression she always wears, though something in her manner suggests urgency.
“Miss Clark, we need all available staff to remain this evening to assist with the engagement party.” She adjusts the papers in her hands. “I hope that won’t be a problem.”
My stomach drops. The last thing I want is to spend the evening watching Yarik get engaged to another woman, but refusing would raise questions I can’t answer and potentially cost me my job. “Of course not. What do you need me to do?”
“You’ll be overseeing refreshments and guest services. Coordinate with the catering staff to ensure drinks are replenished and guests’ needs are met.” She hands me a small radio. “This will keep you in contact with the kitchen staff.”
I take the radio, wondering if she notices how it trembles slightly in my hand. “Should I change clothes?”
“What you’re wearing is fine. You’ll be working behind the scenes, not mingling with guests.” Mrs. Nykova’s expression softens almost imperceptibly. “The evening should conclude by eleven.”
Four hours. I have to watch Yarik celebrate his engagement for four hours while pretending my heart isn’t breaking and my morning sickness isn’t threatening to return at the worst possible moment. “I understand. Where should I report?”
“The main dining room in ten minutes. The caterers are setting up now.”
After she leaves, I sit in my chair for a moment, wrapping my arms around my stomach, where Yarik’s baby is growing.
The baby he doesn’t know about, that I still haven’t decided whether to tell him about, because it feels like a way to force him to break the engagement, and I won’t do that.
I won’t bear his resentment for feeling trapped.
I can’t deny the engagement feels like an ending. After he puts that ring on Katya’s finger, whatever we’ve had will become impossible to continue. Even if he’s willing to keep seeing me after he’s engaged, I don’t think I can be that woman.
I check my appearance in the compact mirror I keep in my desk drawer.
I look pale but composed and professional enough to blend into the background.
The navy dress I’m wearing is simple and unremarkable.
I’ve worn it several times since starting this job, and it serves me well for staying invisible.
When I enter the main dining room, I’m struck by how transformed the space is.
Crystal chandeliers hover over tables draped in cream silk, and elaborate floral arrangements fill the air with the scent of roses and jasmine.
Everything is elegant, expensive, and perfect for celebrating a union I desperately wish wasn’t happening.
Nina spots me immediately and approaches with relief evident on her face.
She’s wearing the standard black uniform of Hartley Catering with her hair pulled back in a neat bun.
“Thank God you’re here.” She keeps her voice low as she adjusts a serving tray.
“I was worried I’d have to watch this whole thing alone, though I’m sorry you’re here. ”
I perfectly understand what she means with her contradictory statements. “Mrs. Nykova assigned me to coordinate with you. Lucky me.” I force a smile.
She’s openly frowning. “Are you sure you can handle this? You’ve been so sick lately, and watching him get engaged...”
“I’ll be fine. It’s just business, right? That’s what he always said.” It doesn’t feel very businesslike right now, with people in their best clothes, surrounded by all the finery and décor, but I force a shaky smile.
Nina doesn’t look convinced, but she nods. “At least we can suffer through it together. The family’s supposed to arrive in an hour.”
I spend the next hour checking and double-checking arrangements, making sure water glasses are filled and appetizer stations are properly stocked.
The repetitive tasks help keep my mind occupied, though my stomach churns every time I think about what’s coming or get within ten feet of the shrimp platters chilling in ice pans in the kitchen.
Fortunately, I shouldn’t have to enter that room too often tonight.
At seven o’clock, the first guests begin to arrive. I position myself in an alcove near the kitchen doors where I can observe everything while remaining inconspicuous. From here, I can signal Nina when items need replenishing without drawing attention to myself or use the radio if she’s busy.
The Nikitin family enters together, and I get my first good look at Yarik’s future in-laws.
Leonid Nikitin is exactly what I expected, being tall, silver-haired, and carrying himself with the authority of someone accustomed to being obeyed.
He looks slightly familiar, making me think back to my first day here.
I think he might have passed me moments before Katya.
His wife, Ivanna, is elegant in an effortless way that comes from generations of wealth and social training.
Their sons follow, both impressive in their own ways. The older one, Lev, has the build of a soldier and moves with military precision. Nikolai is more polished, clearly comfortable in social settings, and immediately begins working the room.
Then Katya enters, and I stifle a gasp. She’s absolutely stunning in a champagne-colored gown that flows around her like liquid silk.
Her platinum hair is swept up in an elaborate style, and she wears diamonds that catch the light and split it into rainbows.
She glows with excitement and satisfaction, like a woman who’s achieved exactly what she wanted.
She surveys the room with obvious pleasure, noting the expensive flowers, the perfectly arranged tables, and the guests already gathering to celebrate her engagement. This is her moment of triumph, and she knows it.
Yarik appears a few minutes later, and my heart clenches at the sight of him. He’s wearing a black tuxedo that emphasizes his broad shoulders and lean build, and he looks every inch the powerful man he is. When he takes Katya’s arm and escorts her into the room, they make a striking couple.
The perfect couple, according to everyone here.
I tear my attention away and focus on my radio, checking in with the kitchen staff about the timing for the main course. I can do this. I can get through this evening without falling apart.
The first hour passes in a blur of coordinating drink refills and appetizer rotations. I move around the perimeter of the room, staying in the shadows while keeping watch on guest needs. Most people don’t even notice me, which is exactly what I want.
Yarik is playing his part perfectly, smiling and accepting congratulations with apparent pleasure.
He keeps one hand on Katya’s back as they move through the crowd, the gesture looking natural and possessive.
Only I know him well enough to catch the tension in his shoulders, and the careful control in his expression.
Or maybe I’m seeing what I want to see and projecting my own hopes onto a situation that’s exactly what it appears to be.
Around eight-thirty, I’m coordinating with Nina about champagne service when Yarik passes closely enough to brush against my arm. The contact is brief and probably accidental, but his fingers linger against mine for just a moment longer than necessary.
The touch sends electricity through me, and I have to force myself not to look at him. Instead, I keep my attention focused on Nina, who’s clearly noticed the exchange.
“Sarah,” she whispers once he’s moved away. “Be careful.”
I try to laugh it off. “It was nothing. Accidental contact.”
“That wasn’t accidental, and you know it.” Her voice carries worry. “You’re playing with fire.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore. After what happens here, it’s over.”
“Is it? It looks like it’s just getting more complicated.”
Before I can respond, Mrs. Nykova approaches with a clipboard and a professional smile. “How are things progressing, Miss Clark?”
“Very smoothly. The kitchen staff is excellent, and the guests seem pleased with the service.”
She nods and notes something on her clipboard. “Good. We’ll be serving dinner in twenty minutes, followed by the formal engagement announcement at nine-thirty.”
The announcement where Yarik will put a ring on Katya’s finger and make their relationship official. My stomach lurches, and I have to swallow hard to keep from being sick. “I’ll make sure everything is ready.”
She nods. “Thank you. You’ve been very helpful this evening.”
After Mrs. Nykova leaves, I excuse myself and hurry toward the guest bathroom near the main entrance. The wave of nausea hits me hard, and I barely make it to the toilet before my stomach rebels.
Afterward, I lurch to the sink and grip the marble counter, breathing deeply while trying to regain my composure. The morning sickness has been unpredictable lately, triggered by stress as much as by the pregnancy itself. This evening has been a perfect storm of both.
When I finally feel steady enough to leave, I check my appearance in the mirror.
My face is pale but not obviously distressed.
I smooth my hair and prepare to return to work.
As I open the bathroom door, I nearly collide with Katya, who’s standing just outside with a concerned expression that doesn’t quite reach her cold blue eyes.
“Oh, Sarah, are you feeling all right? You looked a bit peaked when you rushed off.”
My pulse spikes. How long has she been standing there? How much did she see? “I’m fine, thank you. I just needed a moment away from the crowd.”
She studies my face without speaking for a long minute.
There’s something calculating in her expression, like she’s solving a puzzle and doesn’t like the picture that’s emerging.
“Of course. Large gatherings can be overwhelming.” Her smile is perfectly pleasant and completely without warmth.
“You’re doing excellent work, by the way. Very...dedicated.”
The way she says “dedicated” makes my skin crawl, like she’s implying something more than professional commitment. Does she know about Yarik and me? “Thank you. I should get back to coordinating with the catering staff.”
“Yes, you should. We wouldn’t want anything to go wrong on such an important evening.”
I force a neutral smile and walk away, my heart rate slowly starting to calm down. The conversation carried subtext I don’t understand, but every instinct is screaming that Katya suspects something about my relationship with Yarik.
Or maybe she already knows.
On my way back to the dining room, I pass by two men are speaking in low, rapid Russian and quickly recognize them as Katya’s brothers, Lev and Nikolai. I slow my pace slightly, not understanding their words but sensing urgency in their tone.
Nikolia speaks Katya’s name with what sounds like concern or frustration. I keep walking, pretending to check something on my radio, when Lev switches to English.
“Some bonds are meant to end before they begin.”
The words are spoken quietly, almost thoughtfully, but they make me tremble. I don’t know what they’re referring to, but something about the phrase creates an ominous feeling .
I continue walking, forcing myself to maintain a steady pace even though every instinct tells me to run. Whatever the Nikitin brothers were discussing, it didn’t sound like typical wedding planning.
Back in the dining room, I find Nina arranging champagne flutes for the engagement toast. She takes one look at my face and moves closer. “What happened? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I shrug. “Nothing. Just nerves about the evening going smoothly.”
She gives me a stern Mom Mode look. “Sarah, you’re lying. What’s wrong?”
I glance around to make sure no one is listening, then lower my voice. “Katya cornered me outside the bathroom. She was asking if I was all right, but it seemed like she was fishing for information.”
“Information about what?”
“I don’t know. Maybe about Yarik and me. Maybe about why I was sick.” I touch my stomach unconsciously. “I also overheard her brothers talking about bonds ending before they begin. It could have been about anything, but it didn’t sound good.”
Nina frowns. “Maybe you should leave early. You could tell Mrs. Nykova you’re not feeling well.”
I shake my head immediately. “I can’t. It would look suspicious, especially after Katya just saw me being sick.”
“Then stay close to me for the rest of the evening. Don’t go anywhere alone.”
I nod, unable to trust my voice.
A burst of laughter from the main dining room draws our attention. Katya’s voice, which is bright and confident, rings out above the crowd. Yarik stands beside her, his expression unreadable from this distance. Someone clinks a glass for a toast.
I turn away before I can see whether he smiles when he lifts his glass.
Behind me, the sounds of celebration continue. Champagne flutes chime, music swells, and Katya’s laughter sharpens like glass under pressure. I press a hand to my stomach, anchoring myself, and think to myself while addressing the baby. “I don’t know what’s coming, but we’re getting through it.”
I straighten my spine and turn back toward the crowd, where the woman who might already know my secret, and the man I might be about to lose forever are standing together.
It’s inevitable they’ll make their announcement, and that’s the death knell for my fling with Yarik.
It has to be. I’m ready for that, I tell myself, and for a second, I almost believe it.