Page 10 of Triplet Babies
“Understood. What about the entries in Russian? Should I ask him to translate those?”
“Only if you need to schedule around them. He handles his personal appointments himself, but you need to know when he’s unavailable for business matters.”
By lunchtime, I’ve made significant progress with organizing his schedule and identifying potential conflicts. There are a few overlapping appointments that need to be resolved, and one meeting that’s scheduled during what appears to be a standing commitment every Tuesday afternoon.
I’m reviewing the files when my phone buzzes with a text message. I glance at it, expecting something from Nina about dinner plans, but the number is unfamiliar.
I’ll never stop looking for you. You can’t hide forever.
The blood drains from my face, and for a moment, I can’t breathe. The words blur on the screen as my hands start to shake, and I have to read them twice to make sure I’m not imagining things.
It’s a message Alex would send, using the same threatening tone wrapped in language that could be explained away as romantic persistence if anyone else saw it. My first instinct is to delete it immediately, but I force myself to screenshot it first, just in case.
I spend the rest of the afternoon trying to focus on work, but my mind keeps drifting back to the text. Alex is in New York. He has no way of knowing where I am or how to contact me. I changedmy phone number when I moved to Connecticut, and I’ve been incredibly careful about maintaining my privacy.
The message has to be a coincidence. Maybe it’s a wrong number, or someone playing a prank. There’s no way Alex could have tracked me down after all this time.
By four o’clock, I’ve convinced myself I’m overreacting. I have the schedule summary prepared and a list of questions about the conflicting appointments. When Mrs. Nykova tells me Mr. Barinov is ready to see me, I gather my materials and try to project confidence I don’t really feel.
His office feels smaller this time, maybe because I’m more mentally prepared. He’s still behind the massive desk, but he’s removed his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves, making him look slightly more approachable.
“How was your first day?” He looks up from his computer as I take the same chair I occupied this morning.
“Educational. I have your schedule summary and a few questions about potential conflicts.” I hand him the folder with my notes, and he reviews them quickly, occasionally nodding or making marks in the margins.
“This is thorough work. You identified several issues I might have caught too late.” He looks up at me with what might be approval. “The Tuesday afternoon conflict you flagged is a standing appointment that takes priority over business meetings. Reschedule the other item for Wednesday morning.”
I nod and make a note of it. “Should I explain the reason for the change?”
“Just say there was a scheduling conflict that couldn’t be resolved. Most people won’t push for details.”
We spend the next twenty minutes going through the rest of my questions, and I’m relieved to discover I haven’t made any major mistakes. He’s a good teacher, explaining the context behind various appointments and helping me understand his priorities.
“You did well today,” he says when we finish. “Tomorrow, I’ll need you to handle some correspondence and coordinate with our legal team about a contract review. Mrs. Nykova will give you the details.”
“Thank you. I enjoyed the work, actually. It’s nice to use different skills.” I’m being truthful here. I missed being outside, but it was interesting to do something entirely different from the usual.
I get a tiny smile once more. “Good. I’ll see you tomorrow morning at eight-thirty.”
I gather my things and head toward the door, then pause. “Mr. Barinov? May I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Why did you really choose me for this position? I mean, I’m grateful for the opportunity, but there must have been other candidates with more relevant experience.”
He’s quiet for a long moment, and I wonder if I’ve overstepped some boundary I didn’t know existed. “You interest me,” he says finally. “Most people are predictable. You’re not.”
It’s not the answer I expected, and I’m not sure how to respond. “I hope that’s a good thing.”
“We’ll find out.”
I leave the estate feeling strangely unsettled, though whether it’s because of the cryptic conversation with my new boss or the threatening text message, I can’t say. Probably both.
The drive home gives me time to think, and by the time I reach my apartment, I’ve decided not to mention the text to Nina unless I receive another one. It’s probably nothing, and there’s no point in worrying her over what’s most likely a wrong number.
Nina is in the kitchen when I walk in, stirring something that smells amazing and humming along to music playing from her phone.
She grins at me over her shoulder, referencing the text I sent her at lunchtime to share the news of my promotion. “How was your first day as a fancy personal assistant? Did you get to answer important phone calls and schedule power lunches?”
