30. Daphne
30
“Are you sure about this?”
“Your family’s right. I’m climbing the walls at home.” I give my husband a reassuring smile. “I’ll be fine. Really, I’m actually super excited to go to work for the first time in… ever?”
Pasha scoffs. “It’s no wonder. Now, you don’t have to deal with those two idiots.”
“Idioty.”
He lets out a sexy growl and tugs me over the center console for a kiss. “Keep talking like that and I won’t let you out of this car until the windows are fogged up.”
I’ve been practicing my Russian every chance I get, mostly because Pasha usually reacts like that. Sofi drills me on the basics during our workouts at the gym, which is now officially three times a week and mostly kickboxing. It’s forming a weird and slightly problematic mental connection between sex, exercise, and Cyrillic pronunciation structures, but that’s a problem for Future Daphne and my Future Therapist.
I’m getting help from other sources, too. Asya has been guiding me through family titles, terms of endearment, and recipes. Mak’s teaching me all the cuss words.
Little by little, I’m getting the hang of it.
“Before you go in,” Pasha says when I push him away while laughing and reach for the passenger door handle, “I have something for you.”
“Is it in your pants?” I tease with a waggle of my brows.
“Yes, but not what you think.” He slides a box from his coat pocket into my hand. “Here. Put this on.”
The dark plum velvet opens to reveal a stunning chain of brilliant gems set in white gold. Each stone is encircled by a loop of tiny diamonds, with the focal piece resembling an Evil Eye.
“I didn’t know you were superstitious.” I slip the chain onto my wrist and fumble with the clasp until he leans over to help me. “This is beautiful, by the way.”
“I’m not particularly superstitious. I’m more wanting you to remember which button to press when you’re in trouble.”
“Huh?”
He smiles at me and turns the Evil Eye piece over. Sure enough, there’s a tiny latch that indicates this stone has more layers than all the others. “See this? It’s a panic button. When you’re in trouble, just press it hard and we’ll come running to save you. After wiping your phone and laptop.”
I blanch. “What? Why?”
“Feds.”
“Ah. Makes sense.”
He takes my hand in his and turns it to see the way the stones sparkle on my wrist. Then he smiles. “I think you’re ready now.”
“Oh, well, now that you think I’m ready…”
“I’m ready to give that sweet ass a spanking if you keep this up.”
“Promise?”
Pasha grabs my chin. I think he’s about to scold me or do something a bit more dangerous, but then he plants one more kiss on my lips and lets me go. “Have a good day, my love.”
I’m grinning ear to ear when I reach the front doors to the gallery. Already, I feel a lightness to the atmosphere, and it’s paired with the reminder that my husband—my sexy, delightfully overprotective husband—is the reason why I’m not afraid to go in anymore.
My hand pauses on the door.
I’ve never admitted that to myself before. That I was afraid.
It’s nice to be able to use the past tense.
“Daphne!” Hazel squeals with joy and runs down the stairway ramp to sweep me up into her tight embrace. “You’re here! I’m so happy you’re here!”
I laugh as I try to pry myself away enough to breathe. “Is there a crisis I need to fix?”
“What? Oh! No! Unless you count me missing you as a crisis.”
“I’d say it is.” I loop my arm through hers as we stroll through the main lobby. “Crisis officially averted.”
There haven’t been any new artists scheduled for a showing this week, which means I know exactly who the red-haired woman in the silver pants suit is at the overlooking mezzanine.
“Welcome back, Mrs. Chekhov.”
“So nice to finally see you in person, Aubrey. Or do you prefer Ms. Day?” I try to keep my voice formal and professional, and not at all sounding like the butterflies fluttering in my stomach.
She waves a hand in front of her face with a laugh. “Please! We’re friends here. At least, I’d like to be. Aubrey it is.”
“Daphne, then, too.” I feel my smile grow wider. Hazel was right—I am going to love working with this new manager.
“Shall we meet in my office? Or yours?”
Heat blooms in my cheeks. I may be the gallery’s new owner, but I don’t have an appropriate office for that sort of status. “Yours?” I clear my throat. “Yours. Yes.”
Act like you own the place, Daph. Because you do.
Hazel leads me to what used to be?—
Wait. This can’t be right.
“But this is my office.”
She grins and shakes her head. “Nope. Not anymore. Aubrey took it over. It’s nice, too!”
“But where am I?—”
“In the gallery owner’s space, silly.” She rolls her eyes. “Where else would your badass self be?”
“How did you…”
“Move your stuff? Bunch of buff, burly men I’d pay good money to stare at all day. And also, you’ve been out for like, two and a half months. I had plenty of time to pass the files over.”
I guess that makes sense. And I have no doubt those “buff, burly men” were Pasha’s own security or Bratva guys or whatever. He’d never let some stranger he hasn’t personally vetted touch my private belongings.
Aubrey meets us at the door and ushers us inside. “Come in! Come in! I’ve just had new carpeting installed, so please feel free to kick off your shoes and relax.”
“Oh my.” I breathe a small chuckle when I feel the plush carpet between my toes. “I should’ve done this a long time ago.”
“Would you like me to send a few samples to your office? I can have the contractors in by Monday.”
“Oh, no, no. I don’t want to ruin the budget.”
Aubrey settles into her luxurious leather office chair and rocks it back. “Not a problem. We have a rather generous sponsor who insisted on allocating the majority of this year’s funds from their account towards redecorating. They want to see this place become something you’re truly proud of.”
That gets my brow up. “This sponsor wouldn’t happen to be a tall, darkly handsome Russian CEO of a certain international corporation?”
She smirks and pretends to be ignorant of such details. “I really can’t say.”
I like her.
I really like her.
Hazel gives me a nudge. She’s grinning like a cat who chugged the cream. “So, Mrs. Owner-of-Bloom, what’s your first order of business?”
That does remind me of something. “How are we coming on the renaming aspect? Any ideas?”
Aubrey opens her laptop and clicks on a few things before answering. “I have a spreadsheet with options, including domain names and structural options. Do you think you’ll want to incorporate or go non-profit?”
“What’s the current structure?”
“Basic limited liability corporation. Maximum profit, minimal taxes, maintains liability to the company. Basically, they saved their own asses from any potential legal repercussions.”
“Right.” I can’t help but wince. “Sounds like them. Let’s keep it for now, but I will take a look at that spreadsheet and mark it up with my feedback.”
“Sounds good. I have the employee database reorganized and verified as well, including the contractors this company has been working with for cleaning and maintenance. I sent you the link for administrative access already, so let me know if you need any help logging in.”
I don’t know what pings in my brain to make the connection. But it’s made, it’s bugging me, and it needs to be addressed. “Speaking of… Are personnel files encrypted?”
Aubrey looks stunned I even asked. She blinks it away and covers up with an easy smile. “Of course! Nothing’s changed as far as software and security goes. I wanted to make sure you’re here to verify everything before conducting any major overhauls.”
“Makes sense. I appreciate that.”
Hazel sneaks a glance my way. She knows I’m onto something.
“Need anything else?” I try to make my exit as easy and breezy as Aubrey’s demeanor. She seems like a trustworthy person, and she’s been so nice and supportive since Day One. I don’t want to accidentally burn any bridges.
Aubrey does this cute little scrunchie thing with her face and shrugs. “I don’t think so? I know where to find you if anything comes up. And vice versa, of course.”
“Of course. Thank you so much, again, for taking this on. Especially with the, ah…” I try not to be awkward about it but I’m already failing. “You know. The arrangement.”
“Arrangement?” Hazel looks confused.
I should have let her know ahead of time. “I forgot to mention. Sorry. I’ve decided that I’d rather maintain my position as a curator and just… how would you put it?” I ask Aubrey.
Of course she has a better way to word it than I do. I will need to start taking notes and mimicking her confidence. I’m too used to having my ideas and voice squashed under toxic misogyny.
“Mrs. Chekhov—I mean, Daphne—has decided to act as a silent owner of the gallery. On paper, she’s the de facto signatory and final voice on all major decisions. In person, she’s a curator who works with artists directly.”
“I feel better keeping things that way,” I add.
Hazel nods. “No, that totally makes sense. If it’s not broke, don’t fix it.”
“Exactly.”
With that finalized, I take my leave and hurry off to enjoy my new office.
Except I’ve got other things on my mind. Things that have to do with how and why my new phone numbers keep showing up in the wrong hands.
Especially when the only people who I ever gave any of the numbers to, outside of Pasha and his family—who hate my parents—were the two people in that casual meeting.
Hazel would never betray me like that. She’d sooner crush Conrad’s other hand and both his feet before allowing him to send me a damn carrier pigeon, let alone text or call me.
I don’t know Aubrey as well. But I don’t see someone flying so smoothly under Pasha’s radar. He’s meticulous about these things.
And she seems so nice. Once I’m in my new office—which is breathtaking—I lock the door and hit the name of the one person I can trust to help me without freaking out.
“Happy First Day Back!” Sofi chimes on her end. “How’s it going?”
“Great! Great. Just… great. Aubrey is amazing, and Hazel is always amazing, and it just feels so, so fucking good to be contributing to society again.”
Sofi giggles. She must be out running errands or something. Her “I’m a sweet, innocent young woman at Starbucks” persona is on. “Glad to hear. Oh! Hey! We should do lunch to celebrate! And invite the ladies, too.”
“Yes! Also…” I plop in my chair and blow out a breath. “I need your help.”
“Shoot.”
“I may be wrong, I may be barking up a completely different tree than I should, but…”
Why is it so hard to ask? She’s practically my own sister. Why are these butterflies turning into wasps inside my gut?
“Seriously, Daph. It’s okay. You know I’m here for you. What’s up?”
“Could you do me a favor and log into the gallery’s employee database to see if anyone’s been poking in there who doesn’t belong?”
It all flies out like it’s a singular word.
Surprisingly, she understands every syllable. The giggling stops and her voice drops closer to the “Bratva Bitch”—her term—tone I’ve come to know so well.
“You think you have a hacker?”
“Unless our newest addition is a double agent? Yes.”
She scoffs. “No way. Pasha would never be that clumsy. Alright, give me a few seconds…” Her voice trails off as she pulls her phone away from her ear, probably to text someone.
“I can let you go for now. I didn’t mean to barge in on your day.”
“Daphne. Listen to me. Family comes first. You are family, so you come first. I’m just waiting for my frappe, anyways. Place is packed. Ah, here we go.”
“You got something? So soon?”
“Can’t afford to be slow in this life, sis. Always be a mile ahead of your enemies. Only one step ahead gives them the opportunity to stomp all over you.”
“Remind me to frame that for Taty’s wall when she’s older.”
“She has no enemies. Yet. Let’s see what the teen years bring.”
It’s only another few seconds before she’s got new information. I’m unable to focus on anything else due to the stress, so I practice my trash bin basketball shots with scrap paper.
“Yup.” Sofi must have grabbed her drink, because I can hear her moving away from the crowd and somewhere quieter. “You were right. Although thankfully, this is more of an oversight than a hacker issue.”
My stomach twists. “Let me guess: I need to replace the employee management software.”
“That’s what tipped you off, huh?”
“It was something Aubrey said that got me thinking. ‘Nothing’s been changed.’ And I get why, and I’m not mad about it at all, but… it’s all systems that Todd and Keith installed themselves.”
“Which means they have no problems logging back in, even without administrative access. They know the workarounds.”
I slump so far back in my chair, it’s close to toppling over. Right now, it wouldn’t feel any different than what’s happening in my brain. “They sold me out. Those sons of bitches sold me out.”
“Sukiny deti. Say it. You’ll feel better.”
“Sukiny deti.” I sigh. “You’re right. I do feel better. Those sukiny deti?—”
“Eti sukiny deti.”
“Eti sukiny deti sold me out!”
I didn’t mean to scream.
But damn, does it feel good to do it. And in Russian, no less. A language built for screaming.
“Don’t worry, Daphne. We’ll take care of it.”
“Don’t kill them!” I blurt it out without thinking. “I mean… shit. Sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.”
“No, no. It’s good you did. Nevazhno, mal’chiki!” She breathes an airy laugh of relief. “That was a close one. So, what do you want to do instead?”
Oh… shit. They really were going to… Nope. Not going to dwell on that. “First and foremost, we need new software.”
“Already on it.”
“I don’t want them dead. Not physically, anyway.”
“But socially? Financially? Mentally? Emotionally?”
“On those fronts…” I exhale. “Obliterate them.”