Chapter 53

I glance at the clock for the twentieth time in the last ten minutes and silently beg it to go faster. Shockingly, it does not comply.

“Oh, my, I’m so sorry, Daphne.” Todd taps a stack of papers on the table in front of him. “Are we keeping you from something more important?”

Yes, asshole—actually, you are. “Of course not,” I dismiss with a wave of my hand. “I want to make sure we get this show smoothed over, but I⁠—”

“You’re damn right, you need to smooth this over!” Keith shoots his brother a hard glance before turning his impatience on me. “We’re already wasting thousands of dollars on adjusting the advertising campaign. Not to mention the hours of humiliation explaining to our investors why their favorite artist will not be featured.”

Hazel’s grin reaches her ears, but not her eyes. She’s juuust this side of shredding The Tweedles with her bare hands. “I’m sure they all understood why you’re not supporting the work of a sexual predator.” She gasps like she was just struck with inspiration and turns to me. “Daph! We could add that to the marketing! Underline how this gallery supports women and stands by this no matter the consequences. That’ll sell tickets for sure.”

I glance at the clock again. In less than a minute, I need to be out the front door.

My phone buzzes.

Shit.

I know who it is without looking at the screen. I’d agreed to meet him outside and I’m running late. But The Tweedles called this impromptu meeting without consulting with me and they wouldn’t take no for an answer.

But we’re now pushing forty-five minutes. “Excuse me,” I mumble as I grab my coat and bag from behind my chair.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Keith snaps.

I freeze. “I have an appointment⁠—”

“You have a meeting. With us. Right now.” He stabs his finger onto the tabletop. “Sit down.”

Hazel frowns. “Keith, she said she⁠—”

“I heard what she said.” He doesn’t take his eyes off me. “But she doesn’t write the paychecks here, does she?”

I look to Todd. He avoids eye contact and opts for flipping through the new marketing proposal folder I slid across his desk this morning.

Coward.

My phone buzzes again. Keith’s glare hardens when he hears it, so I click the power button to send the caller to voicemail.

“As you were saying⁠—”

Buzz-buzz. Buzz-buzz. Buzz-buzz.

I swallow back my growing anxiety. I’m not sure which is worse: dealing with Keith’s anger or knowing a certain someone else is growing increasingly pissed.

I hit the power button again. “Sorry,” I mutter through a very dry mouth. “It’s probably about my appointment.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “Anyways, I want to discuss the budget for the campaign and how we intend to recoup our losses with the adjusted show. As much as I despise⁠—”

The main door slamming open echoes through the gallery. Keith turns to Todd, who shrugs.

I glance at my phone screen and sigh. Ten missed texts and two more missed calls. Not good. Maybe he’ll see I’m not in my office. Maybe he’ll understand that I was dragged out of there without my consent. Maybe⁠—

Maybe he’ll kick the door open like a fucking Viking and storm across the room to scoop me up in his arms, slaughter my enemies, and ravage me on the conference room table.

Guess which option he chooses?

“Why aren’t you ready to go?” Pasha growls at me as the echo of the kicked door reverberates.

“What the hell?!” Keith and Todd jump to their feet. “Excuse you, but you can’t just⁠—”

“She has an appointment. Didn’t she tell you that?”

Todd looks away, painfully guilty. Keith stops in his tracks, but unlike his brother, he decides to double down on his stance. “Daphne did inform us, yes, but as you can see⁠—”

“I can see perfectly fine. You’re the ones who can’t fucking see that she’s pregnant.”

I sigh and close my eyes. But it’s not fast enough to miss the way The Tweedles look at me.

Like I’ve lost all value to them and their company.

Like I’m no longer worth keeping.

“Daphne. Let’s go.” Pasha helps—well, more like hauls—me to my feet and pulls my coat up over my arms. Once I’m snugly wrapped up in the wool, he grabs my bag. “Fucking assholes. Who the hell stops a pregnant woman from seeing her own damned doctor? You’re lucky I don’t sue the absolute shit out of your pathetic little enterprise.”

Keith’s mouth pops open in shock. No one tells Keith he’s not in charge of literally everything and everyone around him.

Todd, however, grabs his brother’s shoulder and holds him back. “That won’t be necessary, Mr. Chekhov. Daphne, we will discuss the new terms of your employment when you return.”

I want to say something.

I want to save my job.

But Pasha doesn’t give me enough time to even process Todd’s words before he drags me out of the conference room, down the hall, and to the front door of the building.

“I can walk. I can walk!” I try to yank my elbow from his grasp, but he holds on tight.

“If that were true, you’d be in the car by now.” Pasha yanks the passenger door of his Charger opens and pushes at the small of my back. “Get in.”

He doesn’t buckle me in like usual. He doesn’t even wait for me to settle in to close the door for me. Instead, he marches around the front of the car to the driver’s side and leaves me to buckle myself in, shut the door, et cetera.

I mean, I get it. I hate being late to any appointment and he’s not alone in loathing my bosses. So I tell myself to relax and wait for him to peel out of the parking lot before I say anything. “Worried about being late?”

Pasha barks out a laugh. “Worried? Hell no. I’ll pay any penalty fee and hire any new doctor we need to. That’s not a problem.”

He doesn’t elaborate on what is the problem. “So…”

“The problem is your employer.”

I get that.

“And you.”

I whip my head around to stare at him. “What did I do?”

“It’s what you didn’t do, Daphne. You didn’t stand up for yourself.”

“What the hell was I supposed to do? I tried getting out of there, but they wouldn’t listen!”

“And that’s exactly my point. They need to respect you, your time, and your health. They won’t do that if you let them walk all over you.”

I sit back in my seat and glare out the window just so I don’t have to look at him. Of all the fucking nerve… “Do you respect your employees? Do you let them just walk out for their appointments?”

Pasha is silent for a moment. I’m pretty sure I hit a nerve with that—until he rubs his jaw and grips the steering wheel a bit tighter. “I do, actually. It’s in the handbook. I’ve had managers fired for withholding employees from personal appointments.”

“… Oh.”

I don’t know what else to say to that. Honestly, I expected him to be like every other corporate head honcho who doesn’t give a flying rat’s ass about their underlings.

“You’re pregnant,” he adds. “That trumps everything else.”

It’s my turn to ironically laugh. “About that. You had literally no right telling my employers about my pregnancy. So… thanks for that.”

“They didn’t know?” His knuckles turn white on the wheel. “You didn’t tell them because…?”

“Because I want to keep my job. I happen to like it.”

“Your pregnancy shouldn’t matter.”

“But it does!” I cry out. “It does matter and, had you spent one second paying attention to their reaction when you blew my cover, you’d have seen why! Now, thanks to you, I probably don’t even have a job. Hooray! I’ll be able to make all my appointments now!”

I’m literally shaking mad. So much that I have to grip my purse on my lap just to steady my fingers.

Pasha seems genuinely surprised.

For once, he doesn’t have a response.