Page 36 of Release Me

“Right.” I heave a sigh and then launch into an amended version of the sordid tale of Vince’s employment. Nadia listens intently, and when I’m done she pushes her lips together and lets out a short whistle.

“Wow. That sounds like a disaster.”

“It was.”

She shakes her head. “And here I was thinking I got the short end of the stick because he hit on me at the bar.”

“He did what?” I try to sound calm, but I can tell by the look on Nadia’s face that I’ve failed. Her eyes are wide, and her lips are parted but there are no words coming out because she doesn’t know what to say.

“It was nothing, Sebastian.”

I can’t make her tell me. Honestly, I don’t even need her to because knowing the details aren’t going to change the outcome. She could say he did something as simple as glanced at her breasts or something as fucked up as slapping her ass when she got up from her seat, and it won’t matter because knowing he made her uncomfortable is enough. The second the words left her mouth, I made the decision to whoop Vince’s ass the next time I see him.

Luckily, I won’t have to wait too long because I’ll be in California this weekend.

My original plan was to take Nic straight to the job site in Santa Monica and get him excited about all the amazing things we could do with the beach front property, but now I’m mentally amending my plans, adding a stop in Los Angeles to the agenda just so I can find Vince and knock a few of his teeth loose.

When my vision is no longer clouded with red and my desire for violence has gone dormant again, I swallow the words I wanted to say and tell Nadia what she needs to hear. “Allow me to extend my sincerest apologies to you on behalf of my cousin. I don’t know what he did or said to you, but I can promise you it’s not a reflection of how the men in my family treat women.”

“I know that, Sebastian.”

Her response soothes a part of me that is constantly worried about fucking things up, about never being able to gain her trust and make her believe that she’s safe with me. We still have a long way to go, but that sentence, those four words, make me believe that one day, we’ll actually get there.

“Good, I’m glad.” I clear my throat, expelling the emotion wrapped around my vocal chords. “Now, tell me what your plan is for solving our marketing problem.”

The way she switches back into business mode is impressive because it happens quickly. One second she’s showing a bit of vulnerability, and the next she’s all command and confidence.

“Well, since our primary concern is getting people through the door who aren’t staying at the hotel, I think we should turn our focus to events aimed at the public.”

“Makes sense, that way the restaurant’s revenue isn’t tied to the hotel’s revenue.”

She nods enthusiastically. “Exactly! I didn’t expect to meet with you about this today, so I’m just spit balling here. If you hate any of these ideas, don’t hold it against me.”

I can’t imagine hating anything that comes out of her mouth, but instead of telling her that I just gesture for her to continue.

“Okay.” She sits back in her chair, tapping her nails on the leather arm. “Right off the top of my head, I think monthly wine tastings with an exclusive menu crafted by Chef Elle could be amazing. We’d run ads in the paper and online to sell tickets, push all the tables together to create a communal dining experience.”

“Are you thinking a different bottle for each course or multiple courses planned around one bottle?”

She tilts her head to the side to consider my question. “Different bottle for each course.”

“Great. I love it. What else do you got?”

Shock colors her features, rendering her speechless for a few seconds. “Sip and Shop on the Rooftop?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

“Telling.”

“Oh, okay, ‘cause for a second there it sounded like a question.”

She rolls her eyes, but when she says the name of her second concept again, it’s not a question. “Sip and Shop on the Rooftop. A weekly event where local artists and businesses set up tables and people come and shop, have drinks, enjoy brunch style finger foods while a DJ plays music.”

I’m quiet for a second, working out the logistics of what that might look like. While I think on it, Nadia grows tense. “This is you spit balling?” I ask, finally.

“Yeah, I mean obviously, I’d take some time to really plan these events out, but I think they could be exactly what we need to draw in more people.” She pulls her lower lip between her teeth. An act that makes her appear adorably self conscious. “We don’t have to do any of them, though.”

“I want to do all of them.”

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