Page 60 of Release Me

Zoe beams at her oldest brother. “Aww. Thanks, Sebby.”

I glance at Sebastian who has gone from smiling at his little sister to glowering at her in a matter of seconds. “Sebby?”

He shakes his head. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Call him whatever you want,” Andreas says, adding his quiet energy to the group. He doesn’t come in for a hug, but Luca does. He bursts into my personal space with a wide, welcoming smile that sets me at ease despite the abrupt show of physical affection.

“Damn,” he mutters, stepping back and allowing his eyes to skate down my frame. “I would buy you so much more than one bouquet of flowers.”

Sebastian opens his mouth to correct him, but it’s Everett’s voice that calls Luca’s name, snapping over his head like a crack of lightening that makes the youngest Adler son hold up his hands in surrender.

“Sorry. I’m sorry.” He gives me a roguish grin as he bows dramatically. “Please forgive me, Nadia.”

I can’t help but smile back at him, shaking my head. “Consider it forgotten.”

“Don’t indulge him, Nadia,” Everett says, pulling Luca back and extending his free hand to me. I take it, noting that he and Andreas are the only members of the Adler family who haven’t tried to hug me. Sebastian warned me that they could be standoffish. He also said he shared their detached temperament, but I can’t tell because he’s never been that way with me. “He’s like a stray dog, if you feed him once, he’ll keep coming back for more.”

“Damn, Dad. Tell me how you really feel.” Luca places a hand over his chest, a frown on his face that’s as deep as it is disingenuous. It’s clear to me that he’s used to being the butt of his family’s jokes, his sense of humor and relaxed demeanor keeping things light in an otherwise serious dynamic.

“Thanks for the advice, Mr. Adler.”

“Everett,” he corrects me the same way his wife did over the phone. “It’s very nice to meet you, Nadia.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Everett.” I split a warm gaze between all the people looking at me. “Thank you all for being here tonight.”

Madeline waves a dismissive hand at me. “Oh, you don’t have to thank us, sweetie. Sebastian told us how hard you’ve been working to make this night happen. We wanted to make sure you knew you had the support of the entire Adler family.”

“Mrs. Adler…I mean, Madeline, I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll come over for lunch on Monday,” she says. “I’ve been trying to get you over to the house for weeks now.”

“Mom. Nadia is very busy.”

I glance back at Sebastian, noting the tension making his jaw tight and hating the way it scrapes right across the insecurities my conversation with Desiree brought up. The way it tells me that his mother’s invitation has revealed a line in the sand neither of us realized had been drawn until this very moment. The way it says that I’m good enough to be his friend, to meet his family in a setting like this, to go to his sister’s salon and sit in her chair, but I’m not good enough for this.

For his parent’s home and the sacred nature of their weekly family lunch.

“He’s right, Madeline.” My smile is bone dry, brittle enough to fall right off of my face. “I am.”

Once again, Madeline waves her hand through the air, dismissing all excuses. “Nonsense, if Sebastian can make it to lunch every week, then so can you. You’re coming, and I won’t take no for an answer.”

I glance around, looking for help from someone else in the Adler family and coming up empty. Seems that no one, not even Everett, wants to intervene on my behalf. I don’t look at Sebastian because I don’t want to see whatever emotions will take over his face when I accept the invitation his mom won’t let me refuse.

“Then I guess I’ll see you Monday.”

21

NADIA

My appointment with Zoe at 5th Street Salon starts off rough, and it’s all my fault. I was so excited about the prospect of having her capable hands in my head, I didn’t stop to think about why she’s usually booked out eight months in advance or how she can afford to be closed on Saturdays when most stylists are wide open.

The first indicator of my mistake were the ring lights and cameras at every station in the salon. The second was the live stream she was on when I walked through the door. I paused just inside the threshold, holding the door open partially in case I had to take my garment bag and make a run for it, and watched as she restocked products and chatted with what is apparently a very active and dedicated fan base. When she caught me watching her, she waved me forward with eager eyes that made me feel bad for shutting her down with a curt shake of my head. I was grateful when she didn’t ask again, choosing instead to end the live and tend to me, but that feeling only lasted for a few minutes before she sat a ring light and a camera in front of me and asked if I minded being recorded.

In this age of social media, I know most people only ask for permission to record as a formality. The assumption is always that the answer will be yes, that you’ll be eager to be featured on social media platforms with hundreds of thousands of followers that could possibly lead to an increase in your own numbers. But, here’s the thing, that stuff only matters when you have socials to follow, and I don’t. That stuff only matters when you’re not hiding from a man who spends all day trolling Instagram looking at hair and makeup pages in hopes of finding another hot girl to recruit to his escorting operation. That stuff only matters when you’re a normal girl with no fears or anxieties about thousands of strangers seeing your face and learning your name.

Unfortunately for me and Zoe, none of that stuff matters to me.

As soon as I said no, trying to make my choice to avoid social media sound like a cool lifestyle decision and not a security measure, the energy in the room changed, and we’ve been sitting in the cloud of discomfort for close to an hour. It has lingered around the edges of stilted conversation while Zoe took my hair history, floated above the wash bowl and whined over the hum of the dryer right up until five seconds ago when the power went out and the entire shop went quiet.

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