Page 23 of Triplet Babies
I inject approval into my tone. “Good. Let me know if you run into any problems.”
She nods but doesn’t say anything else.
I should leave. The professional check-in is complete, and lingering will only make the situation more complicated than it already is. Instead, I’m moving closer to her desk, drawn by a magnetism I don’t seem able to control.
She straightens in her chair, clearly aware of my proximity, but doesn’t say anything. The tension that built between us last night is still there, simmering beneath the surface of our careful professionalism.
I reach for her hand where it rests beside her keyboard, moving slowly and deliberately. She watches my approach but doesn’t pull away until the last moment, when she steps back from her chair and puts distance between us. Her voice is quiet but firm. “This is wrong.”
I could argue with her. I could point out my engagement is a business arrangement, and what’s between us has nothing to do with contracts or family obligations. I could remind her she was as eager for that kiss as I was.
Instead, I nod once and move to the chair beside her desk, picking up the nearest folder as if that was my intention all along. “You’re right. Let’s focus on the work.”
We sit side by side for the next hour, reviewing documents and discussing compliance issues with careful professionalism. She explains her analytical process, shows me the patterns she’s identified, and asks intelligent questions about regulatory requirements. She’s not working in a conventional way, but her method is working, so I don’t bother trying to force her to think about it a different way.
At one point, she mutters something under her breath about my handwriting being illegible, and I almost laugh. The comment is so normal, so unguarded, that it reminds me of how natural things felt between us before last night’s kiss.
I don’t touch her again during our work session, though the temptation is constant. Instead, I content myself with watching her concentrate, noting the way she bites her lower lip when she’s thinking, and the small sounds of satisfaction she makes when she solves a particularly complex problem.
She’s trying to hide how flustered she is by my presence, but I see it in the way she occasionally loses her train of thought or reaches for the wrong file. Knowing I affect her as much as she affects me is oddly thrilling.
When we finish reviewing the compliance materials, I stand to leave but pause at her door. “Sarah?”
She looks up from organizing the files on which we’ve been working. “Yes?”
“Thank you for your discretion about last night. I appreciate your professionalism.”
She flushes slightly but sounds composed when she says, “Of course.”
“This arrangement we have working together closely is important to me. I don’t want anything to jeopardize that.”
She meets my gaze directly for the first time today. “Neither do I.”
I nod. “Good. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I leave her office and return to my own but find it difficult to concentrate on anything else. The conversation with Roman Sokolov seems less urgent now, though it shouldn’t. My security concerns feel manageable compared to the growing complexity of my feelings for Sarah.
She’s right that pursuing anything between us would be wrong. She works for me, I’m engaged to someone else, and mixing personal and professional relationships rarely ends well. The rational part of my mind understands all of these facts perfectly.
The rest of me doesn’t care.
I want her with an intensity that’s becoming harder to ignore or rationalize away. The kiss last night was a revelation, showing me possibilities I hadn’t allowed myself to consider. She responds to me in ways that Katya never has, with genuine feeling rather than lifeless performance. I’ve never kissed Katya like that, keeping our public exchanges perfunctory and private ones as nonexistent as possible, but there’s no way she’d rock my very existence like Sarah did.
More than that, she sees me as a person rather than a position. When she looks at me, I remember what it felt like to be human instead of just functional.
I can wait, I tell myself. I can maintain professional boundaries and appropriate distance. I can resist the temptation to cross lines that shouldn’t be crossed, but as I sit in my office replaying the sound of her saying my name last night, I realize that waiting has an expiration date. This attraction isn’t going away, and my self-control isn’t infinite.
Something will have to give, and soon. I recall Roman Sokolov’s parting words about opportunities becoming essential when circumstances change. Perhaps he was more perceptive than I gave him credit for. Circumstances have already changed more than I’m willing to admit.
Sarah Clark has become essential in ways I never intended to allow. If I’m not careful, she’ll become more than I can allow, and a weakness a man like me can’t afford.
7
Sarah
I’m preparing to leave for the day when Mrs. Nykova appears in my office doorway with her usual composed expression.
She adjusts the papers in her hands before speaking. “Mr. Barinov has requested you stay late this evening. He’d like to discuss your progress on the compliance review.”
I glance at the clock on my computer screen. It’s already past five, and most of the staff has gone home for the day. “How late?”
