“Yes, and I’m very sorry. It’s just that I had a bad reaction to the anesthesia, and I was out of commission for a few days, which was unexpected. The doctor didn’t advise it, but he said I should have been able to get back to work almost immediately. And he is the best surgeon in SoCal. He does work for all the actresses who say they haven’t had any work done.” She was blathering.
Smirnov had settled back in his chair, mixing himself another drink. He dropped in a couple of olives, which looked delicious, but she didn’t want to push it.
He swirled the drink and took a sip, letting her stew in her own lies for a minute.
“Do you like it?” she asked, unsure what to do. All she knew was that she could not be a double agent. She’d been balancing three identities for about two minutes now, and it felt about as doable as carrying a tray of drinks with one hand over her head through a crowded restaurant. Gabby had been fired on her first day from Chili’s, sent home with a Quesadilla Explosion Salad for dinner and no job.
He gave her a cold, unflinching look.
She decided to stick with what was working: the truth. “I want out. I’m tired, and it’s too much to balance. The EOD is pissed that I missed a week.” She gestured to him. “Now you’re upset too. At this point, I’m just failing at two jobs.”
“Are you out of your mind?”
“I know it sounds crazy, but the EOD didn’t really care about my nose job. You know health care in this country, not to mention work-life balance issues.”
“You have lost your mind.” Apparently, the Russian Mafia didn’t care about her job satisfaction. That tracked.
“I’m just telling you I want out.”
“No.” He leaned back in his chair, tipping it onto the back two legs and staring her down, just how she told her kids not to. (“If you tip your chair back one more time, you will eat on the floor!” She never followed through on that threat.) Smirnov was the Mafia, though—he could live dangerously if he wanted.
“Do you know who I am? I think you should rethink the tone you are taking with me,Gabriella Greene.”
All the air left her lungs, and her world started to spin. He had used her real name. Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuuuuck. The expletive grew in volume in her mind as the implication hit. “What did you say?”
“It was very clever of you to hide your family from me all this time, Gabriella. Very clever. I always thought I had no leverage with you. What was I going to do—key your stupid car?” He shook his head in silent appreciation. “Darcy Dagger, a woman with nothing to lose—what a clever lie.” One corner of his mouth pulled up into a sinister half smile.
Despite her efforts to calm herself, her breathing was erratic. This mobster knew her name, knew she had a family.
“Gabriella Greene is a woman witheverythingto lose,” he said, smiling through his threats in a way that made her blood run cold. “Did you forget who I am because you are treating me like a dickless office boss?”
It would be nice if he answered that question instead of asking it over and over again.
A line of sweat trickled down her back. Her kids.
Smirnov slid some photos across the desk toward her.
“Lucas,” he said. “Such a cute boy. Sort of naughty, but that’s good in boys.”
Smirnov would think that. She was at toxic masculinity HQ.
“Kyle.” He shook his head. “My niece is doing this too—wearing overalls and going by a boy’s name. What is with this generation? If you’re born with a dick, enjoy it. If you’re born with a pussy—I’m sure that’s fine too.”
Could mobsters get canceled for transphobia? That would save her some work.
“Philip.” He slid a picture of Phil standing at the kitchen counter staring at his phone—probably sexting one of his assistants. “How long have you been married?”
Instead of saying, “You can have that one!” Gabby gasped like she meant it. “Not Phil!” she said in a breathless tone.
“If you don’t follow through with our plans, I will kill your family.” He took a sip of his drink, taking his time with his threat like he enjoyed watching her sweat. “Don’t try to be cute and move them. It won’t work. I see everything. Like Santa Claus.”
Instead of feeling sad and powerless, Gabby felt something inside her harden. She would not let this man near her family, no matter what she had to do. All business, she asked, “What do you need?”
With annoyance he said, “Just follow our original plan. I need you to get Kramer’s codes to transfer the laundered money to me.”
“And Sergei Orlov?” she asked for clarification.
“Did you get a lobotomy with that nose job?”
