The Art of Discretion (The Discretion Dynasty #2)

1. Rosenna

Chapter one

Rosenna

H earing a small knock on the door, I barely glanced up, catching my assistant’s reflection in the glass panel of my office door, hair perfect, expression determined, holding my coffee like she was about to deliver life-saving medicine.

“Rose, I brought you your coffee,” Kira whispered.

I nodded thankfully as I finished up the call I was on: “That’s not a problem. Just let me know what time works for you, and we’ll schedule an interview and consultation.”

The person on the line bid me goodbye.

Kira stood at the end of my desk and crossed her arms. “Are you trying to secretly replace me?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

I shook my head as I held the cup in both hands. “Not at all. I’m openly trying to replace you, Kira.”

She scoffed as she shook her head and took a seat on one of the chairs across from my desk.

Her dark brown hair straightened to perfection to outline her even more stunning face. We’d met a few years ago in our last year of college and had been attached to the hip ever since.

When we were supposed to branch off and go our separate ways with our business degrees, she remained conjoined at my hip, letting me know that the only way she’d tackle this big scary world was if I was in the driving seat. Meaning if I was going off the edge, she’d be right there with me grinning ear to ear. In return for steering the ship, she became my rock, my safe place, my shoulder to cry on.

“How did it go?” she asked seriously, and I sighed.

“Fine, I guess. I’m still trying to find a few more well-known artists who would be interested in selling to make a profit. The amateurs and newbies haven’t been bringing in a lot of income in the last month or so.”

She nodded in understanding. This had been our predicament for a few months now.

Owning three museums isn’t hard. In the heart of Chelsea, New York, it was easy to find artists looking to dip their toes into this field, leaving us with endless opportunities to showcase different art. From contemporary to avant-garde to everything in between and out. The government funding and nonprofit organizations that help keep the lights on and water running are also a plus.

The income is steady for the most part, and our auctions, art expos, and events often keep me very busy and Kira very agitated when things aren’t perfect. Making her do all of my excessive preparation allows me some peace of mind. Perfectionist that she is, she’d probably lose sleep over a misplaced brochure. Better her than me.

All in all, being twenty-nine, owning three properties, being happily married, and being relatively successful has its perks… but when you’re in debt almost four million dollars, it makes you wonder if your choices are well thought out, especially when that steady income is being shelled towards a mortgage loan faster than your bank account can catch up.

The unpaid invoices sat in my inbox like a ticking time bomb, every month another reminder that success was a shiny illusion. On paper, I had everything. In reality? I had maybe six months before I found myself drowning again.

Kira stood up and nodded as she grabbed some of the files on my desk and the unopened mail.

“Don’t worry, Rose… Everything will work itself out. And by the way, Gavin is waiting on the line.”

My eyes widened, and I glared at her as I picked up the phone and began dialing him in.

“Why didn’t you tell me!?” I whisper-yelled.

“Because I had to get you coffee, you were on an important call, he’s a dick… do you want me to go on?” She pursed her lips in thought.

I shooed her away as my husband spoke into the phone.

“Rosenna, you didn ’ t answer your cell.”

Hearing his voice, I inhaled deeply before speaking.

“Hi, Gavin… Sorry, I was on an important call.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment.

“What time will you be home? I wanted us to have dinner around seven.”

It wasn’t a question. I could tell by the tone.

I smiled gently. “I’ll be home before seven.”

“Good. I’ll see you then. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Gav. See you at home.”

After hanging up the phone, I got a bit more work done before deciding to take a break. I stood from my desk to walk out to the Victorian museum and gallery that I called my second home. It smelled faintly of polished wood, old money, and the sweet smell of aged paper and oil paint, the kind of scent that clung to history itself.

On the ground floor, we hosted regular viewings of ancient artifacts or newer pieces of art that came in, and the upper floors were used for limited-time showings and all other events.

Kira’s sales pitch drifted my way. “Well, welcome! As you know, we have three different locations in total, and we can accommodate many compositions of art for display and for sale. And right over there is our director, Rosenna Hart. Let me introduce you.”

Turning toward their voices, I plastered my charming smile across my face, only for my gaze to land on an older man with an air of effortless authority. His presence commanded attention, his wealth apparent not only in the immaculate cut of his suit but in the way he carried himself—almost as if he owned the very ground he walked on.

There was something eerily familiar about him, the sharp eyes, the sculpted, almost regal features.

“Hello, Mrs. Hart.” His gaze flickered to my ring, his tone polite but intentionally acknowledging it.

I cleared my throat slightly as I smiled. “Please, call me Rosenna. I see Kira has gotten you well established and informed of what we do.”

Kira smiled, and the man chuckled, his low laughter dripping of decades of wealth.

“She sure has. I have to say, I am very impressed with the architecture and level of detail you’ve taken. You seem to have a lot of potential for going on only two years.” The words were complimentary, but the way his eyes settled on me, it felt more like an evaluation.

“Why, thank you. Are you interested in working with us to display and sell your work?”

His head shook. “I’m no artist, Rosenna. My son, however… you couldn’t rip the paintbrush or pencil out of his hand if you wanted to.” He chuckled, and both Kira and I laughed our “we need to land this client” laugh.

Despite his charm and flattery, the scrutiny in his eyes was clear—for good reason given he’d graciously decided to give us his time and energy.

Deciding the trip must have been worth it though, he looked between the two of us for a split second, and shortly after, he pulled out a sleek black business card. “Take my card. I’ll have my team get in contact with Kira, and we’ll schedule a few things to give my son a bit of exposure. See if it’ll be a good fit.”

“Absolutely, sir. It’s been a pleasure to speak with you.” I shook his hand.

He nodded, studying me for a moment longer than necessary, his gaze sharp, calculating, like a man used to reading people in a single glance. There was something unnerving and oddly comforting about it all at the same time.

“Likewise. Kira, darling, would you mind showing me out? I have another meeting in roughly fifteen minutes.”

As she walked him out, I looked down at his black business card.

Vincent Garcia.

My stomach tightened, my fingers gripping it a little harder than necessary. All of a sudden it felt like a brick in my hand.

When Kira returned, I looked at her wide-eyed. “Kira. What did you do?”

She bit her lip. “If I tell you, you can’t fire me.”

I waited impatiently, and she let out a reluctant sigh.

“I contacted Mr. Garcia’s assistant asking for a meeting twice every day for the past five months, and eventually he noticed my persistence. He was quick to say he didn’t want to do regular business, and I told him I wasn’t interested in that, but I was interested in his son’s work. His son is an artist and is somewhat low-key and off the grid, but he’s amazing. Not good, not great, amazing . Mr. Garcia seemed hesitant at first but agreed on a small meeting, and this afternoon was just that.”

I couldn’t help but stare at her in utter confusion.

“Kira... you harassed a billionaire tycoon for five months and set up a meeting with him so we could gain his equally rich and talented son as a potential client?”

She held her hands up in surrender. “I told you you can’t fire me!”

I ignored her as I wrapped my arms around her, letting out a sigh of relief as she patted my back awkwardly.

“I love you so much,” I muttered.

She pulled away, putting her hands on my shoulders. “Get it together, boss. There’s no time to waste. I am going to order you a few new outfits to choose from so you feel like a confident boss bitch on the day of the actual meeting. I am also going to get in contact with his assistant ASAP, and we’ll make sure this place is in tip-top shape.”

“Can I give you a raise?” I asked.

She replied with a nod, “Yes, I already sent my negotiations to your email… I’ll also settle for an iced coffee… but that’s neither here nor there.” She pulled away, and I laughed as she walked away, swaying her hips in triumph as she put her hand in the air.

“Remember, you can’t fire me!”

It was 7:17 PM, and the door of our home had finally opened. Gavin entered as he set his briefcase on the floor and pulled off his suit jacket. I approached him and placed a small kiss on his cheek as he ran his hand over my waist.

“Sorry for running late. I had a few things I needed to finish up… How are you, honey?” he asked with a tired sigh

I smiled softly. “Pretty good, and no worries. Myrtle just finished dinner and left only a few minutes ago,” I said.

Myrtle was our housemaid. We’d hired her when we first got married. She stopped by a few times a week.

Gavin nodded silently, and we were soon together in the dining room for dinner.

Gavin was extremely successful. His parents passed down their law firm to him, and he’s grown it with a few partners ever since. We were in a close relationship when we were in college so it shouldn’t have surprised me when he asked me to marry him, but I was happy nonetheless. He was handsome, with a cut jawline, perfectly dark combed hair, a gym-perfect physique. Attitude and ego were a bit shaky, but his other qualities often made up for it.

He was my first serious relationship, my first kiss, my first everything. We were now going on being married for five years.

I asked him how his day was, and he went on to tell me a few of the business deals he had completed and how much profit he’d made from each. I was truly happy for him, knowing how long he’d worked for this.

“How was your day?” he soon asked.

Instead of giving him the dry answer of nothing much or slow as it had been for the past few weeks, I spoke on the positives.

“We found a potential client, although I’m not supposed to say until everything is finalized. But since it’s you, I’ll tell you. Kira managed to get in contact with Vincent Garcia, and we could potentially be working with his son soon.”

I was enthusiastic—it was hard to hide just how excited I was.

But if I expected Gavin to reflect it back at me, I was dead wrong. He was silent, the pause pregnant before he clenched his jaw. The tines of his fork scraped on his plate.

“Congratulations,” he said. His tone was flat.

The wind came out of my sails somewhat. “You don’t seem too congratulatory,” I said lightly.

Gavin turned his full attention onto me.

I braced.

“You’re in four million dollars of debt, and you expect me to be happy about some random rich artist who you haven’t even met yet… having the potential to bring in half a million at the most? Be realistic, Rosenna.”

I wilted somewhat—because Gavin was right. This new client partnership wouldn’t clear my debt completely.

But it would at least be something towards it. And that was a good thing, right?

“I just thought you’d be happy.”

“Happy? I’d be happy if my wife wasn’t trying to do big girl things and making a mockery of me and my colleagues. You barely make three hundred grand a year in profit, and I’ve been trying to haggle Brent to ease up on the interest rates… And you want me to be happy?” He shook his head, placing his napkin down on the table like a final period on the conversation. “Fucking useless,” he muttered, looking away.

I immediately felt tears spring into my eyes.

Slowly I stood, grabbed the plates and cups, and walked over to the kitchen. At the sink I began cleaning.

Slow footsteps sounded behind me. Then a sigh.

“Rosenna,” Gavin muttered.

I shook my head. “I’ll be up for bed in a minute,” I whispered.

He lingered. I could feel him debating whether to push or just let it drop, so I braced myself for the worst.

Then, he exhaled sharply and left the room. Fleeting footsteps and a door shutting, and finally silence, just me and the dishes I sat scrubbing with the scalding hot water grazing my skin. Maybe if I scrubbed hard enough, I’d wash away the growing lump in my throat.

Gavin had never liked my business. He tolerated it. Yet when he asked one of his friends to give me a loan, I never expected him to be so aggressive in suggesting I wouldn’t ever be able to repay it— which may very well be true. As nice as Brent was to lend me the money, he was almost like a loan shark. He upped the interest by a substantial amount every year and never wanted to negotiate anything with me.

Finishing up the dishes, I dried my hands as I looked down at my phone to see a message from Kira.

Kira

Agenda for the week. Vincent Garcia ’ s son confirmed.

Holding my phone up to my heart, I sighed.

I was wishing heavily on the bright star that I called Kira… She was the only person I truly believed in, because no matter what, she always believed in me.