Page 26 of Release Me

We both know the timing of her appearance doesn’t have anything to do with it. Under different circumstances—which would be any circumstance where I’m not discussing my new employee with my ex-wife—I would have already pulled two orgasms out of Talia and had her on her way to the third, all without wondering why she’s in New Haven sixteen hours earlier than she should be.

Talia rolls her eyes, crossing over to the kitchen and pulling a bottle of water out of the refrigerator. “You were hard, Seb. Your body was willing, but your heart wasn’t. The only thing that’s changed is that Nadia is in your life.”

“She isn’t in my life.”

But she is because I insisted that she should be. I talked her into taking a job she didn’t want and told her we could be friends. I pushed, and she gave in, so now she’s in my life. The thought sends a twinge through my chest, and it’s made of equal parts fear and excitement.

“You really like her.” Talia looks amazed, like she didn’t know I was capable of liking someone. She gestures at the barstool across from her. “Sit down. I want to hear all about her.”

“I have to go, Tal.” I fish my keys out of my pocket, choosing an abrupt departure over subjecting myself to whatever line of questioning she’s preparing to throw my way. Her knowing laugh follows me out the door, proceeding a statement that sounds like a threat and a promise all wrapped up in one.

“I’ll be at Cerros at noon. I can’t wait to meet Nadia for myself.”

11

NADIA

I’m all nerves and thrifted clothes that don’t fit quite right when I walk into Cerros for the second time in my life, and having the official, if temporary, title of the manager of the rooftop restaurant doesn’t help at all. I’d thought it would make me feel like less of an outsider in this place that screams glamour and luxury, but it doesn’t.

My clothes still feel cheap.

My shoes still fit wrong.

The only thing that makes me feel like I’m in the right place is Regina at my side. When I arrived this morning, stepping into the lobby hoping I would be spared the embarrassment of having to ask where I should report to on my first day of work, Regina was there waiting with a cup of coffee and a warm smile.

If she has thoughts about me going from an unqualified waitress hopeful to a managerial position, she hasn’t let it show, and for that I’m grateful. So far, she’s taken me to the security room on the first floor, so I can take my employee photo and get the ID card that will grant me access to all the spaces that fall under my domain.

“You can also use your ID to bypass the hotel floors and go straight to the part of the building we use for Adler Holdings,” Regina explains as we step onto the elevator. She gives me a tight smile and gestures for me to press my ID to the scanner on the panel next to the buttons. When I do, the panel beeps and the buttons for the higher floors light up, signaling that they’re available to be pressed. I look at Regina for further guidance, and she laughs. “Your office is on the twenty-ninth floor.”

“Right.” I press the button and swallow the shocked gasp creeping up my throat. I didn’t realize I would have an office. “This building is pretty impressive. I didn’t know Adler Holdings was also housed here.”

“Mr. Adler didn’t see the point in maintaining another office space when we could easily fit our offices in the top seven floors of the building.”

“Also doesn’t hurt to be able to offer exclusive lodging and food options to potential business associates.”

“Exactly.”

“There are thirty floors total, right? Plus the rooftop.”

Regina nods. “Yes, twenty-two floors dedicated to the hotel, seven for Adler Holdings, and the top floor houses the kitchen for the rooftop as well as the indoor dining room for customers who want to take advantage of the view without being exposed to the elements.”

“He really thought of everything.”

“Mr. Adler is very good at anticipating people’s needs and meeting them before they’re ever expressed.”

The elevator glides to a stop, and the doors slide open with a low ding that announces our arrival onto the floor. Regina exits first, turning to the right and looking back to make sure that I’m following her. I am, but I have to jog a bit to keep up with her quick strides. For such a short woman, she moves fast as hell. The hallway she’s leading me down is nothing but a blur of glass windows and natural light. I glance back towards the elevators to see what’s on the other end of the hall and spot a massive conference room as well as a pair of stately French doors with opaque glass and a name plate I can’t read from this far away.

“That’s Mr. Adler’s office, and this is yours,” Regina says, stopping in front of a set of doors that are a mirror image of the ones I just spotted. There’s a name plate here too, and the letters etched into the gold plated metal spell my name. I gape at it, refusing to believe that the space behind these doors belongs to me. I haven’t even seen it yet, but I already know it’s too much.

More than I could ever need, possibly more than I deserve.

“This is too much.” The words are a quiet murmur only meant for my ears, but Regina is standing right here, so she hears them. She shakes her head as she opens the door.

“Mr. Adler said you would say that.”

“Do you always call him Mr. Adler?” I ask, following her on cautious feet into a space I still can’t believe is mine. It’s even bigger than I thought. I could probably fit five of my motel rooms inside of here and still have room to move around comfortably. For such a big space, it’s cozy with several sitting areas strategically placed throughout for more casual conversations and a large conference table off to the side, perfectly positioned to give every person sitting at it their own unique view of downtown New Haven. In the center of the room is an L-shaped desk made of light oak with shelves just begging to be filled with books built into the sides.

I move over to it, placing my purse, cup of coffee and ID badge on top, so both my hands are free to roam over the smooth surface. To touch what feels like a tangible representation of my future.

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