Page 60 of Sinful Blaze

“Because he ruined us! He owes us everything!”

I pull my phone away from my ear. Good Lord, this man needs to calm down.

Mother had made some breathless claim that Pasha was the man who outed Melanie and brought our family to ruin. In the moment, I was so flustered, I barely registered the connection between Pasha, the man I sort of know, and Pasha, the guy who fucked us over.

Well, it would be accurate to say he fucked them over and then just, you know… fucked me.

I rest a hand on my baby bump and sigh into my phone. “I’m not your personal spy, Dad. I have a life of my own.”

“A life you’re dangerously close to throwing away if you insist on gallivanting around the globe with this monster! You owe us this much, Daphne. Find out everything you can to help our family.”

I’m glad he can’t see me roll my eyes heavenward, because he’d probably coldcock me for it. “Help our family do what? Invite him to a cocktail party?”

Dad’s voice sounds just this side of fuming. “Save your petulant games for your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyf?—”

“Oh! Great!” he spits sarcastically. “That makes it so much better. One daughter spreads herself like a whore on camera and the other daughter spreads her legs for the enemy. Have you no shame? Your mother and I raised you far better than this!”

I don’t know if the tears that spring to my eyes are from pain or anger. Maybe a little of both. I’m used to my parents being overbearing and unreasonable, but this is a particular flavor of cruel.

“He treats me well.” I hate, so much, how timid I sound. “He’s a good man.” Which isn’t a lie. A good man takes care of his family. A good man makes sure his loved ones are safe and happy. Everything Pasha has done so far really does show him to be a good man.

I think.

My father, though? I’m doing my best to ignore the answer that whispers in the back of my mind.

“Of course he treats you well.” Dad sighs like I’m a stupid little girl who doesn’t know any better. “He’s using you, sweetheart. He’s using you to get to me. And he knows, like I do, how easy it is to make you believe him. I know it’s not your fault you can’t see this. Just trust your daddy—I know what I’m talking about.”

There are a trillion things I could say to that, and none of them are PG. But I take the high road, which is also conveniently enough the fastest way out of this conversation.

“Okay.”

I’m pretty sure that any sign of submission will get Dad to back off. And, moments later, I’m proven right.

“Think it over, okay, muffin? I don’t want to see you get hurt. And with the way that man sells guns, well… we know how you are with those things. Be safe, and call me the second you have anything.”

I suck in a sharp breath. He just had to bring up the guns. It’s like Manipulator Bingo. It’s predictable, of course, but I just wish it wasn’t so effective at the same time.

“Okay,” I croak again.

The second I hang up and put my phone away, I feel a heavy presence fill the doorway to the office.

Todd is standing there, hands shoved in his pockets. He checks his watch on his wrist and blows out a heavy sigh. “You are half an hour late, and now, you’re taking personal calls?”

“My car?—”

“On top of several other instances of prioritizing whatever it is you feel takes precedence over this gallery and our clients.” He shoves his hand back into his pocket. It’s clear he’s trying to be calm about this, but he’s pissed. “I like you, Daph. Todd and I both like you. You’ve done solid work since you came here and our clients—well, most of them—have been very happy with you. So please understand our immense disappointment when we see that your priorities are not with the gallery anymore.”

I rub the bridge of my nose. I feel a headache coming on, and whether it’s from the pregnancy or all this stress, it’s gonna be a doozy. “It’s not that at all, Todd. I’ve just had some emergencies come up at home that I need to take care of. Like my water pipes exploding,” I add. It was true for as long as I thought it was true, right?

“Be that as it may, we’re running behind and we have new clients vying for our attention. You’ll be working through the lunch hour to make up for this, yes?”

“Er, yeah. Sure. Sounds good.”

I forgot to pack my lunch, anyway.

Only an hour passes before it is, in fact, lunch time and I’m still here, fielding emails and rebalancing the events calendar and doing my damndest to stay under the Tweedles’ radar. Hazel may think they’re dumb as rocks, but they’re not so dumb they can’t find a good reason to fire me.

---