Page 17 of Release Me

“No, Nadia, I don’t.” Not now. Not like this. The voice in the back of my head adds, surprising the fuck out of me because I don’t know where the thought came from. “Please pull down your dress.”

My breath comes a little easier when all the soft fabric that was in her hand is back where it should be. Nadia’s shoulders are high, tension and embarrassment I don’t know how to ease rippling through the muscles. She rubs at her arms, biting her lip but still somehow holding my gaze.

“I’m sorry.”

Her voice is small and ratcheted with shame. I know she’s playing the last five minutes over in her mind. She revealed so much of herself to me and none of it was intentional, which means it feels wrong to have it.

“Don’t be.” I run a hand down the back of my neck, only avoiding hanging my head in shame because it would mean not being able to look at her. “This conversation should have happened in a different setting. I wasn’t thinking.”

“What was in the folder?”

“Your resume.”

That wasn’t the answer she was expecting. I can tell by the way her brows rise.

“Still as sparse as you remember it?” The question creates a lightness between us that wasn’t there seconds ago. It’s not enough to fully dispel the dark cloud lingering over the office, but it’s something. “You were right about my lack of experience keeping me from being hired. I thought you were being a jerk when you first said it, but I guess you knew what you were talking about.”

“I usually do.”

“Are you always this insufferable?”

“Depends on who you ask.”

“I’m asking you.”

“That’s not a word I would use to describe myself, no, but if you think it’s fitting I won’t argue with you.” Nadia almost looks like she wants to smile, but she’s not far enough removed from the start of our conversation to access it. Motivated by the need to get her out of here, I push off the desk, placing my hands in my pocket so she doesn’t get spooked again.

“Will you have dinner with me?”

9

NADIA

It’s not a date.

I make that clear to him after I say yes and before I follow him into a private elevator that takes us to the mezzanine floor of Ludus.

I’ve never been up here before because it’s only utilized by girls with exclusive client lists that require even more privacy than the ones on the bottom level. Desiree told me there’s a separate entrance for the upper levels with it’s own door man and elevator attendant who escorts the girls and their clients to the wide open space that’s hidden from view by glass that allows the people behind it to see out while keeping everyone else from seeing in. It all sounded pretty impressive, but experiencing it for myself is something else altogether.

“Mr. Adler.” The concierge—a stout Black man with a British accent—greets us. “It’s an honor to have you and Miss Hendrix in our presence tonight. Shall I seat you at your usual table?”

I don’t even bother to ask how this man knows my name. That’s just how things work around here.

“That would be great, Albert.” Sebastian extends his hand, and Albert takes it with a wide smile curving his lips. “How are Beth and the kids?”

“Doing well, doing well. We’ll be moving Claire onto campus in a few weeks.”

“She’s still going to NHU, right?”

Albert nods, and there’s no mistaking the pride on his face as he leads us to our table. I listen to the exchange simultaneously impressed with how much Sebastian knows about his employees and ashamed of how I acted in his office not even twenty minutes ago.

“Forget it, Nadia. I already have.” Sebastian’s voice is a low rumble in my ear as he pulls out my chair. I lower myself into my seat and start to peruse the menu. Everything sounds so good, but it’s hard to focus when my brain keeps replaying the look on Sebastian’s face when I pulled up my dress.

He was horrified.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man look at me like that. Sad. Worried. Not even Roland—Beau’s father and my dad’s lifelong best friend who became my guardian after my parents died—showed that much concern after the first time Beau sold me to one of his friends. I’d been gone for a week. Missing for seven whole days, and the man who’d known me for my whole life didn’t so much as bat an eye when I stumbled through his front door, bruised in places he couldn’t see, blood soaked into the dress I wore to my college graduation.

“Nadia?”

---