Page 74 of Triplet Babies
She joins me at the window, her voice tight with concern. “He’s sure to tell his boss. Yarik will know about the babies.”
The thought sends panic through my system. I wanted to tell Yarik myself to control how and when he learned about the pregnancy, if I ever told him at all, which I don’t plan to do if he’s marrying someone else. If Valentin tells him, it becomes a complication for Yarik to manage and gives him leverage over me to force me to whatever role he might want me to play. I try to tell myself Yarik isn’t Alex and would never do such a thing, but I can’t bring myself to believe it.
Yarik will use this information to control me and by extension, my babies. I’ll be safe from Alex but imprisoned by another man. I can’t endure that. I grab my keys from the counter, already planning my route. “I have to get those documents back before he says anything to Yarik.”
Nina frowns, reading the message over my shoulder again. “Why would he want to meet at a warehouse? That seems weird.”
I pull on my jacket, checking my pockets for my phone and wallet. “It says he’s in the area on business. Yarik owns a lot of properties.”
Nina crosses her arms, her expression skeptical. “This still feels strange. Why not just bring them to your apartment or drop them off tomorrow?”
I consider her concerns, but the urgency of retrieving the documents before Valentin can examine them more closelyoverrides my caution. “I’ll be quick. I’m just going to grab the folder and leave.”
Nina reaches for her coat with determined movements. “I’m coming with you.”
I shake my head firmly, already moving toward the door. “No. If this is about keeping the pregnancy secret, I need to handle it myself.”
She doesn’t look happy, but she doesn’t argue further. I pause at the door to look back at her, suddenly needing the reassurance of a backup plan. “If I’m not back in two hours, call Yarik.”
Her expression grows alarmed. “Sarah?—”
“Promise me.”
She nods reluctantly, worry evident in every line of her body. “I promise.”
The drive to Industrial Drive takes fifteen minutes through parts of Greenwich I’ve never seen before. The warehouse district is quiet and isolated, being nothing like the busy commercial areas where Nina and I usually spend our time.
Warehouse 17 sits at the end of a dead-end street, surrounded by other industrial buildings that look abandoned in the gathering dusk. I park outside and check my phone, but there’s no message from Valentin with more specific instructions.
The main door is slightly ajar, which strikes me as odd, but maybe Valentin is already inside waiting. I push the open door and step into the cavernous space, noting how my footsteps echo in the emptiness. I call out into the vast space, my voice swallowed by the darkness. “Valentin?”
No response. The warehouse is darker than I expected, with only a few security lights. A prickle of unease hits me, and I start to move back to the entrance. This feels off, and I was stupidly rushing into… What? I don’t know, but the voice of reason is shouting at me to get out, so I turn toward the door, but freeze after a couple of steps.
The air around me smells like dust and motor oil, with a sudden scent that makes my skin crawl. Sandalwood and spice. Alex’s cologne.
Every instinct screams at me to run, but before I can move, a voice speaks from the shadows behind me.
“Hello, Sarah.”
I turn slowly, my pulse jumping as Alex steps into the light. He looks exactly the same as he did twelve months ago, when he left his apartment for a business trip, and I was there. He surely expected me to be there when he returned, but I was gone when he got back. He’s still tall, lean, and darkly handsome in a way that used to make my pulse quicken for entirely different reasons, but he also radiates fury. I’ve seen this side of him many times, but never to this extreme.
His name comes out as a whisper as the hair on my arms stands up. “Alex.”
He smiles, flashing the same charming expression that once made me feel special and now makes me want to vomit. “You look good. Different, but good.”
Another figure emerges from behind a shipping container as a man I don’t recognize who moves with the easy confidence of someone accustomed to violence, steps into a small pool of light created by one of the overhead lights.
Alex gestures casually toward me, like he’s asking someone to pass the salt. “Grab her.”
My paralysis ends, and I bolt , but I’m not fast enough. Strong hands close around my arms, dragging me back into the warehouse despite my struggles. I scream as loudly as I can, hoping someone might hear and call for help. “Let me go!”
Alex laughs with cruel amusement. “Scream all you want. Nobody’s coming.”
The man holding me smells like cigarettes and cheap aftershave, and his grip is bruising as he forces me toward a small office space built into one corner of the warehouse. The stranger speaks with a thick accent I don’t recognize. “You want her in the office, Roman?”
“That’ll work, Demitrios.”
Roman. The name means nothing to me, but Alex doesn’t correct him, which sends a chill down my spine. How many identities has he been living under? How long has he been planning this?
