“I understand your caution, but sometimes good business is just good business.” He leans forward again, his tone becoming more persuasive. “Perhaps we could start with a smaller arrangement to let you see how smoothly things operate?”
“I don’t think so.”
Now I see a flash of something that might be anger before he regains control. “That’s disappointing. I was hoping we could find common ground.”
I shrug slightly. “Business is business. Nothing personal.”
“Of course not.” He stands and extends his hand again. “If you change your mind, you know how to reach me.”
I stand as well but don’t take his hand. “I won’t be changing my mind.”
His smile becomes strained. “You never know what the future holds. Markets change, circumstances evolve, and opportunities that seem unattractive today become essential tomorrow.”
The statement carries a threatening undertone that makes my instincts sharpen. “Perhaps. Good luck with your expansion plans, Mr. Sokolov.”
“Thank you, Mr. Barinov. I hope we’ll have the chance to do business together someday, one way or another.” He walks away without looking back, but something about his parting comment sits uneasily with me. The phrase “one way or another” suggests he’s not accustomed to accepting rejection gracefully.
On the drive back to the estate, Valentin asks, “How did it go? His body language was a little odd.”
“I noticed. He’s not legitimate. He was too polished, too generous with his terms, and too interested in our specific operations.”
He scowls. “Law enforcement?”
He didn’t feel like law enforcement, but I can’t rule that out. “Possibly. Or he’s working for someone who wants information about our shipping routes and security procedures.”
“What’s your read on him personally?”
I consider the question as Luco navigates through afternoon traffic. “Arrogant and used to getting his way. He’s the type who doesn’t handle rejection well.”
Valentin looks troubled. “Dangerous?”
“Potentially. Keep monitoring his activities, and flag anyone else who starts asking questions about our operations.”
“I will. Anything else?” He makes a note on his tablet.
“Yes. Run a deeper background check. I want to know who he’s really working for and what he was hoping to accomplish with this meeting.”
“Consider it done.”
By the time we reach the estate, my unease about Roman Sokolov has crystallized into active concern. Men like him don’t typically disappear quietly when their initial approach fails. They probe for weaknesses, look for alternative routes to their objectives, and sometimes resort to more direct methods of persuasion. I need to make sure our security protocols are current and everyone understands the potential threat level has increased.
The main house feels different when I enter, quieter somehow, though I can’t identify what’s changed. Mrs. Nykova greets me with the afternoon’s messages and a status update on various ongoing projects, but my attention is already shifting toward Sarah’s office.
I tell myself I’m simply checking on her progress with the audit materials, making sure she hasn’t encountered any problems that need my attention. The rationalization feels thin even to me, but I maintain it as I walk down the hallway toward her door.
She’s at her desk with a stack of files spread around her, completely absorbed in whatever she’s reviewing. Her hair is pulled back in a simple twist, and she’s wearing reading glasses I haven’t seen before. The glasses make her look scholarly and serious, which shouldn’t be as attractive as I find it.
I knock on the doorframe, and she looks up with a professional smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Mr. Barinov. How can I help you?”
The return to formal address stings more than it should, but I suppose it’s necessary given what happened last night. “I wanted to check on your progress with the compliance review. Are you finding everything you need?”
“Yes, thank you. I’ve identified several minor discrepancies that should probably be addressed before the external audit, but nothing that appears to be serious.”
She turns her computer screen so I can see the spreadsheet she’s created, color-coded to highlight different types of issues. The organization is excellent considering her limited office experience, and her analysis appears thorough and accurate.
I’m genuinely impressed. “This is excellent work. How much more time do you think you’ll need?”
She pauses a second, as though mentally tabulating. “I should have everything completed by tomorrow afternoon, assuming no major complications arise.”
