Page 28 of Release Me

I feel like I’m missing something, but I’m not sure what exactly it is. My mind, of course, is ready to fill in the blanks, ready to tell me that Sebastian has assigned Regina to shadow me and report back, to let him know whether or not I’m capable of doing this job. It’s the only plausible explanation, but something about it feels wrong because out of the two of us, Sebastian seemed to be the only one certain of my abilities.

Blowing out a slow breath, I decide to let it go. “Okay. Well, I’ll let you know if I need anything.”

Relief washes over her features. “Perfect. I’d like to show you one last thing before I go if that’s alright with you?”

It doesn’t really feel like I have a choice. “Sure.”

I rise from my seat and follow her to the far right corner of the room. At first glance, the wall we’re facing doesn’t look any different from the others, but then Regina presses her palm to part of it and a panel pops open, revealing a small hallway.

“Through here, you have a private bathroom, complete with a shower and a small wardrobe for you to keep a change of clothes in case of emergencies.” Everything she’s just described is housed in the room to my right, and my jaw drops as I look inside, taking in the marble walls and gold finishes. I’m past the point of surprise. Now, I’m just plain flabbergasted. “And over here, you have your own private elevator that provides direct access to the kitchen on the floor above.”

“This is it right? Because I don’t think my heart can handle another hidden feature.”

“That’s it. I promise.” Regina laughs, leading me back into the main part of the office. I go back to my desk while she heads to the door. Her fingers rest on the handle. “Well, I guess I’ll leave you to it.”

“Thanks for helping me get settled,” I say, genuinely meaning it.

“You’re welcome.”

She departs with a soft click of my office doors, leaving me to lose myself in the work Sebastian has left for me to do. After I change my password, I check it off the of the list and move on to the next thing which is checking my email. Since my account is fairly new, there aren’t many messages, but I do see one from HR that’s titled Offer Letter + Benefit Details. I’m just about to click on it when a notification from the leave management system comes through, pulling my attention away from my email and over to the app where an employee named Sarah has just submitted a request for time off. Deciding what to do with the request sends me down a rabbit hole of employee records, previous leave requests, and current work schedules that, in most cases, don’t align with the preferred hours listed on the employees application.

It takes me hours to sort through it all and come up with my own to-do list that includes scheduling a staff meeting, creating a new preferred hours form for everyone to fill out and figuring out the best way to disperse it. By the time I’m done, it’s well past noon, and my stomach is staging a riot. I push back from my desk with a sigh and glance around the expansive office that has a private bathroom and elevator but not a single snack in sight. Regina told me to call her if I needed anything, but it feels kind of icky to call her about food when I can go get something for myself.

My logic is sound, but I still hesitate when my fingers wrap around the handle that will take me outside of my office. I can’t shake the feeling that Regina, and maybe by some extension, Sebastian, wants me to stay tucked away in here. The mere idea of me walking around made Regina look like she wanted to tether me to my desk, though I can’t for the life of me understand why.

“Maybe you’re just being paranoid,” I say, offering up the possibility like it’s not my brain I’m trying to reason with.

Paranoia is always a possibility. At this point, we’re reluctant bedfellows. I mull it over, and find the explanation wanting because it doesn’t account for Regina’s reactions. She was worried about me leaving the office without her by my side, which suggests that I’m being hidden away. But why? And from whom? All my desire to answer those questions dies when my stomach lets out another reproachful groan that reminds me I have access to a private elevator that will take me right to a kitchen with plenty of food and no people.

Grinning because I’ve solved the issue of my hunger without upsetting whatever precarious balance Sebastian has assigned Regina to protect, I rush over to the door that leads to the hidden hallway. Within moments, I’m deposited into a room full of gleaming stainless steel appliances. I glance around, nodding my appreciation for the state of the art commercial kitchen. It meets all of my expectations, except for one: it’s not empty.

“Uh, can I help you?” The woman standing at one of the prep stations asks, tossing a harried look at me as she presses a sesame mixture into the flesh of an ahi tuna steak. When I don’t respond, because I’m honestly too captivated by the contrast of the white of her chef’s jacket against the vibrant depth of her blue-black skin, she rolls her eyes. “How’d you get up here?”

“I used my badge.” I hold it up, and she gives it a long, hard look then nods.

“Great, so at least I know you’re not crazy.” When the sesame is perfectly affixed to the tuna, she leaves them to rest on a plate and moves over to the sink to wash her hands. “Now, tell me what you’re doing in my kitchen.”

“Your kitchen?”

Her eyes narrow into slits, and she looks prepared to take back her earlier declaration about me not being crazy. “Yes, my kitchen. I’m Chef Elle O’Dea, who the hell are you?”

“Sorry, Chef. I’m new here, so I don’t know everyone on staff yet.” I step forward and extend my hand, wondering if this is why Regina wanted me to stay in my office. “I’m Nadia Hendrix, the new manager for the rooftop restaurant.”

Elle doesn’t take my hand. Instead, she brushes past me and sets about preparing the pan to sear her tuna. “Is there something I can help you with, Nadia Hendrix?”

“Oh, um.” I bite my lip, searching my brain for a plausible lie. “No, I was just?—”

Whatever lie I was going to tell is interrupted by the loud and long growling of my stomach. Chef Elle turns around, her dark lips curled into a knowing smile. The gentle expression makes her already stunning features even more breathtaking, allowing me the chance to appreciate her round, dark eyes and high cheekbones.

“Let me guess, you came up here hoping to get something from the walk-in that could hold you over until you got home?”

“How’d you know?”

“Girl.” She laughs as she adds a thin layer of avocado oil to her pan. “You’d be surprised how often I get staff members up here taking a piece of fruit here or a vegetable tray there.”

“So you wouldn’t mind if I grab something real quick? I promise I’ll be in and out.”

“Sure, you’re more than welcome to do that, or you can wait about five minutes and have this extra tuna steak I’m about to have on hand.”

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