Page 33 of Love Redesigned
My heart sank. So I wasn’treallya designer. I would still be her assistant. At least for the time being. “But you said I should start designing?”
“Well, start sketching, at least. And you have a perfectlyfunctionalworkspace here,” she said, though the look on her face said she found my loft anything but functional.
I nodded. “Okay. Sounds good.”
Sasha offered one last smile. “Good things are going to happen for you, Dani. Your loyalty won’t be forgotten.”
Chapter Ten
Alex
The wedding invitation came a few days later. I tossed it onto my desk unopened, disgusted by everything it stood for. Even though I’d accusedeveryoneat LeFranc of corruption—my anger might have had some influence—my suspicions had originally originated with Sasha. I didn’t have concrete proof, but what I did know always seemed to trace back to her. It killed me that I hadn’t been able to stop what she was doing. Find the proof that she wasn’t what Alicio believed her to be.
I scrolled through the screenshots I’d saved before I’d quit—images of the corporate expense accounts and how they’d changed over the years. Every senior designer had access to a company credit card. So much of designing was finding the right fabric or accessory, Alicio had always said he wanted his designers’ inspiration to have free rein. Of course, the accounts were monitored and purchases indexed. If anything looked amiss, it was easy to track the overspending to the individual making the purchases.
I had had access to just enough of the numbers to see patterns develop from month to month—the rise and fall of the expense accounts over time. And I’d definitely noticed patterns. Specifically, a steady rise in expenses that coincided, quite conveniently, with the month Sasha was promoted to senior designer. Following a hunch, I’d tried to gain access to the individual accounts so I could see for certain that she was responsible for the increase. I’d been stopped before I’d been able to learn anything. The gatekeeper to the expense accounts? Senior accountant and older stepbrother, Victor.
“You’re digging for something that isn’t there,” he’d told me. “Relax. Take a vacation. Use your own expense account for once.”
It had only gotten uglier from there. It’s possible, even probable, that I’d let my personal motivations color my professional ones. I didn’t like Sasha. She’d started working for Alicio just before Mom had died and had given me a bad feeling right from the start; she had pandered to Alicio when his focus should have been his dying wife. Instead, he’d catered to Sasha’s every whim. Regardless of my personal animosity toward the woman, facts didn’t lie and the numbers justified digging deeper. So I’d kept pushing and pushing.
Andpushing.
When I stormed into an executive board meeting, demanding an internal audit, all but accusing Sasha outright, Alicio had calmly asked me to leave the meeting and wait for him in his office.
I left, all right.
Out the door, down the elevator and away from LeFranc forever.
When I ran into Dani at Java Jean’s, it was the closest I’d been to the building since walking out.
I never did talk to Alicio face-to-face. Victor sent over a nondisclosure agreement for me to sign upon my “resignation,” cutting me off from everyone presently employed at LeFranc and issuing a gag order—I would not speak to the press about my suspicions under any circumstances. A phone call from my stepfather was more than enough to let me know that should I choose not to sign it, I would swiftly reap the consequences; he wouldn’t hesitate to send over the documentation for the retroactive student loan account he’d be happy to set up in my name to cover my very expensive Ivy League education.
It was a dirty move, and in my mind, more than cemented the fact that Alicio, orsomeoneon the inside, had something to hide. Just the same, it was enough to make me sign.
So I had.
And I regretted it every single day.
My phone buzzed and I looked away from my laptop screen, closing it with a huff. I’d spent too many hours staring at numbers, wishing I could see what they meant. A distraction was welcome.
I retrieved the phone off of my bed and stretched out across the mattress to see who’d texted.
Dani.
My heart rate climbed just from the sight of her name.
What do you mean, be careful?she’d texted.
I closed my eyes. How could I answer? It had been a risk saying that much. I’d only wanted her to know I still thought Sasha was up to something and I didn’t think she should let her guard down. But there was no way I could actually answer her question.
Instead, I answered with another question.Is something going on?
Don’t answer my question with a question,she responded.
I smiled, despite the seriousness of our conversation. I missed Dani’s fire.
I can only speak in generalities, Dani. I’m sorry I can’t be more specific.
