Page 27 of Triplet Babies
“I should go.” She sits up, and I immediately miss her warmth. “Mrs. Nykova will be here soon, and I don’t want anyone to see me leaving your room. I need to go home to shower and?—”
“Stay a few more minutes.” I pull her back down beside me, enjoying the way she fits perfectly against my side. “Mrs. Nykova doesn’t arrive until seven, and it’s barely six.”
She relaxes into my arms, and we lie in comfortable silence while the sun gradually lightens the sky outside my windows. I could get used to waking up with her beside me, starting each day with her warm body pressed against mine.
The thought should alarm me, considering how carefully I’ve avoided emotional entanglements for years. Instead, it feels right in a way that nothing has for a very long time.
“Yarik?” Her voice is quiet and uncertain.
“Yes?”
“Last night was...” She pauses, searching for words. “I don’t regret it, but I need to know this isn’t just physical for you.”
I turn so I can look into her eyes, seeing vulnerability there that makes my chest constrict. “It’s not just physical.”
“Then what is it?”
“I don’t know yet, but I want to find out.”
She searches my face for a long moment before nodding. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“I want to find out too.”
She gets up reluctantly, gathering her clothes from where we scattered them across the floor last night. I watch her dress, memorizing the way she moves and the curve of her back as she reaches for her dress zipper. “I’ll see you at work,” she says, pausing at the door.
“Sarah?”
She turns back to me.
“Thank you for last night, this morning, and trusting me.”
She smiles, a genuine expression that transforms her entire face. “Thank you for making me feel safe enough to trust.”
After she leaves, I lie in bed for a few more minutes, replaying the night and trying to process what’s changed between us. The physical connection was better than anything I’ve experienced with anyone else. More than that was the emotional intimacy, and the way she looked at me like I was just a man instead of apakhan.
I finally force myself to get up and prepare for the day, knowing maintaining our professional relationship will be more challenging now that I know exactly how she sounds when she comes apart in my arms. By seven-thirty, I’m showered, dressed, and reviewing overnight reports in my office when Valentin arrives with his usual morning briefing and a grim expression.
“We have a problem.” He sets his laptop on my desk and pulls up a series of financial records. “Someone accessed one of our dormant shell companies yesterday and authorized a significant transaction.”
I study the screen, noting the account numbers and transaction details. “Which company?”
“Meridian Holdings. The one we used for the art acquisition three years ago, then mothballed when we shifted to direct purchases.”
“Who has access to that account?”
“According to our records, just you, me, and the bookkeeper who handled the original set-up.” Valentin scrolls through more documents. “Viktor Petrov. He’s been with us for six years, has a clean record, and is a family man.”
I frown, trying to understand why a man like that would take such a risk. “What kind of transaction?”
“It’s a payment authorization for a customs processing fee. The package is a high-value import, disguised as luxury artwork and antiques.” He pulls up the shipping manifest. “Look at the actual cargo description.”
I scan the detailed inventory, recognizing the coded language immediately. “Weapons. Someone’s trying to move military-grade equipment through our channels.”
He nods. “It gets worse. The shipment routing shows it coming through Nikitin distribution networks.” Valentin’s expression is stone cold. “If this had processed successfully, the legal exposure would have fallen entirely on us. The Nikitins would have clean hands while we faced federal weapons trafficking charges.”
I grit my teeth and breathe in and out for a moment to quell the surge of anger. I need to be calm and rational, not a rampaging beast. “How far did it get?”
