Page 24 of Triplet Babies
“He didn’t specify, but he mentioned you should plan to have dinner here.” Her tone is matter-of-fact, as if this is a perfectly normal request. “Shall I let him know you’re available?”
The suggestion catches me unprepared. In the three weeks I’ve worked here, Yarik has never asked me to stay for dinner, and our work sessions have always been strictly professional, aside from some lingering looks and brief touches that we bothpretend are accidents. “Is this about something specific? Did I make an error in the compliance materials?”
Mrs. Nykova’s expression gives away nothing. “I wasn’t given details. Simply the request for your continued presence this evening.”
I consider my options. Refusing would be insubordination, and I need this job too much to risk making him unhappy. Whatever this dinner meeting is about, I’ll handle it professionally and hope for the best. “All right. Should I wait in my office?”
“Mr. Barinov will send for you when he’s ready.” She turns to leave, then pauses. “You might want to freshen up. The private dining room is more formal than your usual work meetings.”
She disappears down the hallway, leaving me with a dozen questions and no answers. I spend the next two hours trying to finish up loose ends while my mind spins through possibilities. Maybe he wants to extend my probationary period, or he’s decided I’m not working out after all, or maybe the past three weeks of careful professionalism weren’t enough to erase the memory of our kiss by the pool.
When it’s almost seven, I’m wound so tight I can barely sit still. I use the executive washroom to touch up my makeup and make sure my hair isn’t completely disheveled from the day’s work. The navy blue dress I’m wearing is one I’ve worn several times now in his presence. It’s simple and professional, but in the mirror’s lighting, it looks more elegant than I remembered. Or I’m just projecting my wishful thoughts.
At seven o’clock precisely, Mrs. Nykova reappears. “Mr. Barinov is ready for you now.”
She leads me through corridors I’ve never seen before, past formal reception rooms and up a curved staircase to the second floor. The private dining room is smaller than I expected, being intimate rather than imposing. A round table is set for two with white linens, crystal glasses, and flickering candles. Classical music plays softly from hidden speakers, and the whole scene feels more like a date than a business meeting.
Yarik stands near tall windows that overlook the gardens, wearing dark slacks and a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He looks relaxed and comfortable, which somehow makes me more nervous rather than less.
He moves away from the windows as I enter. “Sarah, thank you for staying.”
I take the chair he indicates, noting he’s chosen a table small enough that we’ll be sitting closely together. “Mrs. Nykova said you wanted to discuss the compliance review?”
“Among other things.” He pours wine from an open bottle into both our glasses, which seems strange for a business meeting. “I thought we deserved a meal without interruptions or the pretense of working.”
I frown at the wine and then at him. “I don’t understand.”
He takes the seat across from me, close enough I can smell his cologne and see the candlelight reflecting in his eyes. “We’ve been dancing around each other for almost three weeks, maintaining professional distance while pretending we don’t feel what’s happening between us. Tonight, I’d like to have an honest conversation.”
My pulse speeds up, and I reach for my wine glass to give my hands something to do. The stem feels delicate between myfingers, and I’m careful not to grip it too tightly. “Yarik, I don’t think?—”
“Just dinner, Sarah. Just two people talking without expectations.”
The wine is excellent, smooth and warming as I take a careful sip. It’s layered and expensive, making me savor it even without knowing why. “What did you want to talk about?”
“You. Your work. How you’re settling in here.” He leans back in his chair, studying my face intense focus. “Whether you’re happy.”
My mouth is dry in spite of the wine, and I have to swallow it along with a lump in my throat before I can speak, going for aloof and grateful. “I’m grateful for the opportunity. The work is challenging in ways I didn’t expect, and I’m learning a lot.”
He shakes his head slightly. “That’s not what I asked. Are you happy, Sarah?”
The question startles me with its simplicity. Am I happy? I consider the past few weeks since starting this job. Despite the complications with Yarik and the ongoing threat from Alex, though I’ve received no more text messages, I’ve felt more like myself than I have in months. “Yes.” The admission surprises me with its certainty. “For the first time in a long while, I think I am happy.”
A smile touches the corners of his mouth. “Good. I want you to be happy here.”
Mrs. Nykova appears as silently as a ghost, placing plates of what looks like a gourmet salad in front of us before disappearingagain. The service is so smooth it’s almost invisible, allowing us to maintain the illusion we’re alone.
I gesture to the elegant table setting and perfectly plated food. “This is beautiful, but you didn’t need to go to this much trouble. If you wanted to discuss my work, we could have done it in your office.”
He appears almost flustered for an instant. “I wanted to see you somewhere you might feel comfortable being yourself instead of trying to be the perfect employee.”
I smile. “I am trying to be the perfect employee.”
He gives me one of those rare, genuine smiles that transform his entire face. “I know. It’s one of the things I find most endearing about you.”
“Endearing” feels like dangerous territory, but I don’t know how to respond without making things more awkward. Instead, I focus on the salad, which is delicious and gives me an excuse not to meet his penetrating gaze.
He asks as we eat, “Tell me about your life before you came here. What did you do for fun in New York?”
