Page 79 of Sinful Bride

“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!”

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