Page 15 of Release Me

“So what are you going to do?” My voice wants to shake, to convey the fear coursing through my veins at the thought of being at the mercy of a merciless man, but I forbid it. I infuse steel into my vocal chords and through every quivering muscle in my throat. This whole song and dance is a show of power. A reminder that there’s a hierarchy here at Ludus, and he’s seated comfortably on the top rung while my position at the bottom is secured by nothing more than a harness named Desiree. And although I’m scared, I refuse to cower in the face of it. “Revoke my guest pass and ban me from the club?”

There are other options, of course. Ones that would end with me on my knees or bent over his desk while he reminds me that I’m nothing and he’s everything. Beau always chose one of those options, especially for me. If Desiree were here, she’d tell me there’s no way the man in front of me would do anything like that. I try to find comfort in that, but all the solace I’ve taken from the thought is washed away when I remember I don’t really know Desiree, so her imaginary guarantees about the stranger in front of me don’t hold any weight.

My question makes the dark lines of his brows knit together. “Is that what you would do if you were in my position, Nadia?”

There was a time in my life when I would have been able to imagine being in his position with ease. Not his exact position of course because I don’t think I’d ever want to own a sex club but the rest of it. Owning a business, being in charge of a team, paying people well and creating a safe and joyful environment for them to come to work. All of that felt like a forgone conclusion, a path I was destined to walk down because my parents had already paved the way, but that’s a distant dream now. One I haven’t reached for in years and can’t try to grasp right now.

“You still haven’t told me your name,” I say, switching gears to allow myself some distance from the uncomfortable thoughts his question have caused to surface.

“Sebastian.” He leans forward and reaches his hand out to me. I take it and ignore the jolt of energy that passes between our palms, so I can try to figure out why his name sounds familiar.

“Just Sebastian?” I ask, pulling my hand away after a few seconds. “No last name?”

“Adler.”

“Sebastian Adler.” I test the syllables out on my tongue, frustrated that I still can’t place his name. I’ve heard it before. Not here at Ludus, but somewhere. Sebastian watches me carefully, and I shift in my seat. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Just waiting.”

“For what?”

“To see if my name rings a bell.”

God, he’s really a cocky bastard isn’t he?

“Should it?”

Amusement creeps into the corner of his eyes. “Yes, Nadia, it should.”

“Why? It’s not like you have a sign on the door saying ‘Welcome to Ludus, owned and operated by Sebastian Adler.’”

“You’re right. A sign like that probably wouldn’t be wise considering the less than legal nature of the club, but I can guarantee my name appeared more than once on the application.”

My brows pull together in confusion. He just made it clear that I don’t work for him. I think back to the paperwork I filled out to get a guest pass from Russ. There was a long and detailed liability waiver, a comprehensive non-disclosure agreement, and a surprisingly brief basic information form, but nothing close to an application for employment. “What application?”

“The one you filled out when you applied to work at Cerros.”

8

SEBASTIAN

It’s more satisfying than it should be to see her caught completely off guard. She doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who often finds herself in situations like this, speaking from an uninformed place. I’d seen her trying to put it together when I gave her my first name. Somewhere behind her eyes was a flicker of recognition, a spark of a familiarity she refused to give credence. Now she’s kicking herself for not following that thread, for not questioning what it meant to run into me in both of the places she’s sought work in New Haven.

My jaw clenches involuntarily at the thought of her working here at Ludus. Anger washes through my gut in a violent wave as visions of Preston touching her and making her smile play out in my mind. I can’t stop it or make sense of it. I’ve never cared about any of the people working here or the acts they’ve engaged in with our members, and I’ve certainly never pulled someone’s membership just for doing what they’ve paid a handsome fee to come here to do. Nadia’s unsanctioned presence has changed that though. I need to get her the fuck out of here before revoking the membership of every man who looks at her becomes standard practice and there’s no Ludus to speak of.

“This is some sort of joke, right?” Nadia asks with outrage etched into her features.

“It’s not,” I assure her, grabbing the file in front of me and opening it to reveal the copy of her resume Regina sent over last night. “Stay in New Haven long enough, and you’ll find my name attached to most everything.”

“What makes you think I haven’t been in New Haven long?” There’s defensiveness coating the words of her question, but there’s also something else. Something that suggests she’s not comfortable with me being in possession of a fact that’s so blatantly obvious.

“Well, for starters, you don’t know who I am.”

A flash of pink catches my attention, and I find myself tracking the motion of her tongue as it swipes across her full bottom lip. It’s interesting how I immediately recognize it as an unconscious act of annoyance instead of something else like anxiety or nervousness. Nadia doesn’t seem like the kind of woman who gets nervous a lot, which is probably why it had unsettled me to see her back away when I’d started walking towards her earlier. The concern that had rooted itself in my chest, wrapping around my ribs and forcing me to sit down, was a foreign sensation. I can’t remember a single time in my professional life where I’ve felt so self conscious. Aware of everything from my size and the quickness of my movements to the firmness of my tone and no non-sense expression.

Well, maybe that’s not entirely true.

I’ve been told on more than one occasion that I can be intimidating, that the already harsh lines of my face can become particularly garish in the midst of negotiations and business meetings. I’ve just never cared enough to adjust.

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