“Are there any other agencies you could offer to sell the company to, privately?” I asked. “Rather than outside investors who might not know how to run the business.”
Emzee nodded. “Ford’s got a point. I know you were joking about Elite, but we should keep all our options open. They were interested in buying us out before.”
It was clear that Luka didn’t like the idea of selling to Elite, judging by the expression on his face. “I’d hate to see them get their greedy hands on the business we built out of rubble.”
“That’s fair,” Stefan said. “But at least they’d get all the strings attached to it as well.”
They all shared a laugh, and then it got quiet again.
“Do you remember how we used to play tag in the hallways?” Stefan asked. “They’re so long that it was the perfect length for games, even though it used to drive the employees up the wall having us running around like a bunch of wild animals.”
“I kind of remember that,” Emzee said with a wistful smile. “Or at least, I remember running after you. I could never catch you guys.”
Luka grinned. “I remember. I always won, didn’t I?”
Stefan cut in, “You wish! My legs were twice as long as yours.”
“Pretty sure you cheated,” Luka said. “You always cheated when we were kids.”
“Me?” Stefan put a hand to his chest as if he was offended. “I’m not the one who’d break into the receptionist’s desk to steal candy during her lunch break, even when she told us we were only allowed to have one piece. You always were the troublemaker.”
“And you were always the one who told on me,” Luka shot back. “I never would’ve gotten caught if you didn’t tell her.”
“What? She’d come back from lunch and catch you standing there with your hand in the drawer!” Stefan laughed. “And you’d swear the candy was for Em.”
They reminisced some more, and I put my arm around Emzee, gently rubbing her shoulder to let her know I was there for her, even if I couldn’t take part in the conversation.
I could see the look of longing on her face, the unconscious hand she’d placed on her belly. She didn’t remember much about her mother, I knew that…but what she did remember was all tied up with the Danica Rose offices, the agency itself, and the paintings her mother had left behind when she died. Paintings the Zoric children had split up amongst themselves.
Stefan kept his on the walls all over the condo, so I was familiar with Mrs. Zoric’s art. Modern, edgy, a little bit abstract and a little bit feminine, with hints of nude curvy bodies and glimpses of nature in the dark swaths of thick paint. I’d been told that Luka kept his canvases in storage, and I knew Emzee had hers boxed up at the loft, but she usually had one hanging in her bedroom. I think it hurt her to look at them too often. Or maybe it hurt her that she couldn’t connect the art to her mother in the way she wanted to.
She’d described it to me as a hole in her heart, growing up without a mother. Her brothers had lost their mom at a young age, but at least they had memories of her, of being with her. Emzee had none. And yet it seemed like she’d projected all those years of yearning outward—it had manifested in the way she was so committed to caring for the women Konstantin had hurt. Helping them. Mothering them, in her own way. Providing for them what she herself had missed out on. That’s what See Yourself was all about.
Which is why it was so fucked that my parents were forcing her hand. Forcing her to give up the non-profit, forcing all of the Zorics to give up their passions, their livelihood. It wasn’t difficult to be on their side. As far as I was concerned, they were more family to me than the people who had raised me.
We all needed Danica Rose Management in different ways, but Emzee was the one who needed it most of all. The one who had done the most good with DRM’s influence and scrubbed-clean reputation. I couldn’t let this happen—couldn’t just stand by while my parents manipulated my wife out of her last connection to her mother. Because the charity wouldn’t be able to continue without DRM’s financial support. Even if See Yourself was able to secure a ton of donations, it was Danica Rose’s money that had been covering the salaries of the admins, the cost of the non-profit’s rental space, the students’ cameras, film equipment and photo developing supplies, and God knew what else. It’d take months, if not years, of fundraising to get the charity up and running again—and it’d always be on the verge of shutting down without outside support.
I had to say something.
“Listen,” I said, pulling Stefan and Luka out of their memories. “We could all be unhappy, or just Emzee and I can be.”
Stefan frowned. “I’m not sure you get a vote in this situation, but where are you going with this?”
“If Emzee and I go through with the divorce, my parents will cover your debts. The Bratva will walk away. You won’t have to sell,” I said.
“Em told us about the deal she made,” Stefan said. “And while I appreciate the sacrifice you both are willing to make, I can’t in good conscience support it. We’re not going to break up your marriage just to save the agency.”
“Agreed,” Luka said. “Family first.”
“I understand that. But I think you need the agency,” I said. “All of you.”
“With all due respect,” Luka said, with an edge to his voice, “I don’t think you know what we need.”
“We have to sell the business, Ford,” Emzee said gently. “It’s the only way.”
Stefan started to join in with their protests, but I shook my head.
“Can you not hear yourselves?” I waved my hand at the table. “Because I just listened to a hell of a lot of compelling reasons for you to keep DRM. You spent the last ten minutes talking about your great memories growing up in that building—growing with the business. It’s clear the company was responsible for shaping all of you into the adults you are. It’s yourlegacy.”
