Page 6 of Release Me

Ethan

Ithrow my keys in the bowl on the side table as I come in from the garage before coding in and switching off the alarm, kicking the door shut behind me. The house is in darkness except for the low light of a side lamp in the huge open plan living area, which I’ve set to come on every night because it’s usually dark by the time I get home.

Exhaling, I walk over to the wet bar, my phone and iPad in hand as I pour myself a large whiskey before collapsing on the couch. The oversized glass windows that span the entire length of the room overlook a generous outdoor area, complete with a lounge area, fire pit, hot tub, an eight-seater table and a huge grill.

Beyond that are the mountains that surround Badger Creek and the lodge I bought a couple of years ago. I’d gotten lucky with this house being on the market at the same time and even though it needed some serious renovations and additions, I’d bought it anyway, spending a year redesigning and improving the existing structure.

I love the privacy and space it now gives me, even if it’s probably overkill in terms of size.

Kicking my shoes off, I prop my feet up on the coffee table and take a sip of my drink as I loosen my tie. I should find something to eat, I’m starving, but I can’t be assed to get up. Instead, I wake up my iPad, ignoring the text from my best friend Brandon that pops up on the screen as I open up the web browser and do something I know I shouldn’t.

Google Zoey Holden.

It’s not something I’ve ever done before, even if she does work for me and I know it’s absolutely not something I should be doing now, but I just can’t help myself. Not after what happened earlier this evening.

Did you get yourself anything for dinner?

She’d been embarrassed because I’d overheard her chatting with her friend Delaney about getting laid. And while I can’t deny that it had put some very inappropriate thoughts in my head about Zoey and sex, it wasn’t what had stopped me in my tracks.

It was the question she asked me.

No one has ever asked if I need dinner or offered to get it for me. No one ever really asks if I need anything. Well, except Cameron and that’s only because I pay him to do it.

I can pick something up for you.

She has no idea how tempted I’d been to say yes. To say yes to her offer of grabbing me some dinner and then inviting her to join me. But again, not exactly work-appropriate or something I’ve ever done before. So instead, I’d wished her and Delaney a good night and left, tryingnotto let my mind wander back to thoughts of Zoey and sex.

“Jesus,” I exhale, knowing none of this is a good idea as I take another sip of whiskey and drop my gaze to the iPad and all the hits the search of her name has returned.

Unsurprisingly, the website for Holden Winter Gear is top of the list and I click on it, navigating my way through to the About Us section, which details the history of the company and the ties back to what I’m guessing is Zoey’s great grandfather, who started it all.

The company is huge, which I knew already and clearly the go-to brand for anyone who wants to be noticed on the slopes. Anyone who wants to wear the best gear out there, really. Even I can see that.

A lot of big-name athletes wear it too and there are even photos of members of the US Winter Olympic team collecting medals in their gear. It’s like a marketing dream come true.

Fuck, they must be worth a fortune. Not that I can talk, but with both of our companies private, I have no idea of the dollar value of her wealth or how it compares to mine. Holden Winter Gear is fully family-owned, but it doesn’t take a genius to know that the Holden family is rich.

I keep scrolling through the images on the site, stalling out when I see photos of Zoey on the screen, dressed in Holden gear. They’re professional shots, clearly done to show her modeling the stock. Some of them have a guy too, who looks a lot like Zoey and is also vaguely familiar.

When I hover over the picture, I realize it’s her brother Max, one of the medics out here, which I guess means he’s also not taking the easy route via the family business. Something about the fact that neither of them are riding on their family’s coattails makes me smile.

Having worked my ass off to get from nothing to where I am now, I like that Zoey seems to be doing the same thing too. It would be so easy for her to just work for her family, hell, probably do nothing at all, but she isn’t and fuck me, if it doesn’t add to the whole attractive package.

When I go back to the Google search, I can see most of the other hits are also related to Holden Winter Gear. Articles about their success, interviews with what I realize are her parents who now run the company, but nothing more about Zoey.

No Facebook, no Instagram, nothing.

She’s like me in that neither of us have a huge presence on the internet. I’ve worked hard to keep my name off there, even if it’s not completely avoidable. But I don’t have social media and I rarely give interviews, certainly not personal ones. And it seems she doesn’t either.

Before I can fall any further down this rabbit hole of Google-stalking my employee, my phone rings, Brandon’s name flashing up on the screen, distracting me.

“Hey, Brandon,” I say.

“You ignoring my messages?” he says with a laugh, not bothering with the hellos. Having known the guy since high school, I’m used to it.

“No, just got home,” I say.

“Jesus, why are you working so late? I thought the point of getting out of Seattle was to work less and have more of a life.”

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