Nazli had been at the Montclair Grand Hotel for eleven days.
Long enough to know which guests wanted conversation, which wanted silence, and which ones would complain regardless of what she did.
She was clearing a breakfast table near the windows when Julian Montclair walked in.
She recognised him immediately.
It was difficult not to half the staff changed posture whenever he entered a room.
Nazli didn't.
She had already spent enough time around wealthy people to know that looking impressed only encouraged them.
Julian stopped beside the table "Is this mine?"
Nazli looked at the table, then at him.
His eyes moved over the untouched coffee "I asked for an Americano."
"That's an Americano."
"It's cold."
Nazli touched the cup. It was, in fact, cold.
She picked it up "I'll replace it."
Julian was already looking at his phone "And the documents from my office."
Nazli paused "I'm sorry?"
"The blue folder. My office."
She looked at the coffee in her hand, then at him "I'm working breakfast."
"Yes."
"So you want me to leave the restaurant and get your documents?"
"Yes."
Nazli stared at him for a moment "Could you ask your assistant?"
Julian finally looked up "I don't have one."
That explained the tone
Nazli nodded "How's that my problem?"
She took the coffee and walked away.
She heard him say something behind her, but didn't bother turning around.
At the service station, she found the manager waiting.
He looked past her toward Julian "How did that go?"
Nazli placed the coffee down "He needs an assistant."
"He does."
"Then he should hire one "
The manager didn't answer.
Nazli looked at him "What?"
"Nothing."
That was the first sign something was wrong.
An hour later, someone came looking for her "Mr Davis wants you upstairs."
Nazli stopped sorting the room service receipts "Why?"
"I don't know."
Nazli looked at the girl who'd come to get her "Did he look angry?"
"No."
"Disappointed?"
"No."
"Then I'm definitely in trouble."
The girl laughed "As always."
Nazli didn't. She wiped her hands, fixed her uniform and went upstairs.
Mr Davis was behind his desk when she entered "Close the door."
Nazli did.
"Sit." She sat.
He pushed a folder across the desk.
Nazli looked at it without touching it "What happened?"
"Nothing."
"Then why am I here?"
"I want to offer you a different position."
That caught her off guard "Me?"
"Yes."
She opened the folder; her eyes moved over the first page: Executive Secretary.
She looked up "I'm a waiter."
"I know."
"I've been here eleven days."
"I know that too."
Nazli closed the folder "Then I'm missing something."
Mr Davis leaned back "Yesterday we had a problem in the private dining rooms. Three people called in sick. You covered two tables, helped reception with a guest complaint and remembered the changes to six room-service orders without writing any of them down."
"I was doing my job."
"Exactly."
Nazli waited.
"There are people with better qualifications than you," he continued. "I'm aware of that but qualifications aren't the only reason I'm considering you."
Her expression tightened slightly "Considering me for Julian Montclair?"
"Yes."
Nazli looked at the folder again.
She understood the part about the better salary immediately the number was considerably higher than what she made waiting tables.
She didn't touch the page "Why doesn't he have a secretary already?"
"He has."
"Had."
Mr Davis's mouth tightened "Three this year."
Nazli looked at him "Three?"
"One resigned. One transferred. One refused to come back after his first week."
She looked toward the closed door "That bad?"
Mr Davis didn't answer.
Nazli glanced down at the salary again it would make things easier.
Rent. Bills. Everything that had been getting pushed from one week to the next.
She could handle difficult. Probably "Does Julian know you're offering this to me?"
"No."
Nazli looked up "Why?"
"Because if I tell him first, he'll reject you before you walk through the door."
She almost smiled. That sounded about right "And if I say no?"
"Then you go back downstairs."
Nazli considered it.
The sensible answer was no. She had no executive experience, no degree for the position and absolutely no desire to spend her days following Julian Montclair around Manhattan, but she needed the money.
More importantly, she had only been at the hotel eleven days. If she could move into a better position this quickly, walking away simply because the boss was difficult would be stupid.
Nazli picked up the folder "When do I start?"
Mr Davis looked relieved "Today."
Her eyes narrowed "Today?"
"He's expecting his new secretary this morning."
Nazli stared at him "You've already told him?"
"No."
"Then who's he expecting?"
Mr Davis paused "Someone else."
She stared "You're replacing them before they've even started?"
"They withdrew."
Nazli slowly stood "You're making this sound worse."
"I'm trying to be honest."
"You're doing a terrible job."
She tucked the folder beneath her arm.
Mr Davis looked at the clock "His office is on the executive floor."
Nazli reached the door, then stopped "One thing."
He looked up "Yes?"
"If he asks why I'm there?"
Mr Davis gave her a tired look "Tell him the truth."
Nazli frowned "And what truth is that?"
"That I hired you."
She stared at him, then nodded once "That's going to go well."
She left before he could answer.
The elevator doors opened at the end of the corridor.
Nazli stepped inside; only after the doors closed did she look down at the folder again.
Julian Montclair. Executive Secretary.
She stared at his name. Then sighed, "Eleven days."
That was how long she'd lasted before getting promoted into a job she hadn't applied for and apparently, before lunch, she was going to have to explain it to Julian Montclair.
The corridor went still.
Alaric's gaze moved from Elara to Sebastian, then settled on the woman standing beside his office.
Clara. He had seen her once before that morning, but something about her expression now was different.
She looked as though she wanted to disappear.
Elara noticed where Alaric was looking and immediately wished she hadn't.
There was nothing particularly remarkable about his expression that was the problem.
Alaric wasn't looking at Clara the way he looked at most people.
He wasn't impatient or dismissive.
He was studying her quietly, carefully.
Elara's stomach tightened.
She hated that she noticed. She hated even more that she cared.
Her eyes shifted to Clara, then back to Alaric. What is this?
Before she could make sense of it, Alaric looked at Sebastian and stopped.
Sebastian was pale not dramatically not enough that someone who didn't know him would necessarily notice.
But Alaric knew him.
He had spent years watching his brother walk into negotiations where entire companies could disappear depending on the next sentence.
Sebastian didn't scare easily, yet the moment he'd seen Clara, something had gone wrong behind his eyes.
Alaric had never seen it before that interested him "Do you two know each other?"
Sebastian answered slowly, "No."
Clara's eyes dropped.
Elara looked at Sebastian, then at Clara, then back at Sebastian.
The answer had come too carefully.
Alaric's gaze stayed on him "You're sure?"
Sebastian's jaw tightened "Yes."
Alaric said nothing; he didn't need to. The silence did enough.
Clara suddenly turned toward the elevators "I should go."
She moved quickly too quickly.
Elara followed her with her eyes. Sebastian did too.
That was another thing she noticed.
He looked frightened now, not angry, not irritated. Frightened.
Elara's attention sharpened.
Clara reached the elevator. The doors were already opening. She stepped forward.
Then a hand closed around hers. She stopped.
Alaric had crossed the distance without Elara even noticing.
Clara looked down at his hand around hers, then up at him.
"Wait."
Her breathing became uneven "I need to leave."
"I know."
"Then let me go."
Alaric released her immediately but the damage was already done.
Elara had watched the entire thing.
Her expression remained perfectly neutral.
Inside, something much less reasonable had just tightened.
Why had he gone after her?
Why had he touched her?
And why had Clara looked at him like that?
Alaric turned back toward Clara "Why were you looking for Sebastian?"
Clara went silent.
Sebastian stepped forward "Alaric."
Alaric didn't look at him; he kept his eyes on Clara "You came here this morning asking for him."
Clara's fingers tightened around the strap of her purse "Yes."
"Why?"
"It's private."
Alaric's eyes flicked briefly toward Sebastian "Apparently."
Sebastian's voice sharpened "She doesn't owe you an explanation."
That made Alaric look at him. A beat passed "Then you can explain."
Sebastian said nothing.
Elara looked between them. The pieces weren't fitting
She turned toward Sebastian "What's going on?"
"Nothing."
"Then why did you just tell Alaric that she doesn't owe him an explanation?"
"Because you're both asking questions that don't concern you."
Elara stared at him; her voice had gone quieter "Both?"
Sebastian realised his mistake. Too late
Alaric noticed it too; he folded his arms "Interesting choice of words."
Sebastian's eyes hardened "Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Turn this into something it isn't."
Alaric's expression barely shifted "I haven't turned anything into anything."
He glanced at Clara. "She came here looking for you."
Then at Sebastian, "You saw her and nearly forgot how to speak."
Sebastian's face changed; Elara caught it, so did Alaric for a second; nobody said anything.
Clara looked toward the elevator again; the doors were beginning to close.
She stepped backwards.
Sebastian moved instinctively "Clara."
She stopped.
Elara's head turned sharply. It was the first time he'd said her name.
Not her. Not that woman. Clara. Like he had known exactly who she was before she ever spoke.
Elara looked at him. Sebastian looked back; something passed between them that she couldn't read , and suddenly the questions weren't about Clara anymore.
They were about Sebastian: "How do you know her?"
Sebastian's face went blank "Elara—"
"No."
She held his gaze "You knew her name."
"I heard it downstairs."
"She never told you her name."
Clara's face went white.
Alaric slowly looked at Sebastian. That was new; Elara hadn't missed it, nor had he.
Alaric's voice was quieter when he spoke, "Sebastian."
His brother looked at him "Who is Clara?"
Sebastian stared at him, then at Elara. Then, for one brief second, at Clara.
Clara looked terrified, and that was enough.
Sebastian stepped toward her.
Alaric moved first, not aggressively, just one step enough to put himself between them.
Sebastian stopped.
Elara's eyes narrowed.
Alaric glanced at Clara "Why are you afraid of him?"
Clara looked at him. She opened her mouth; nothing came out.
Sebastian's voice cut through the corridor "Alaric, move."
Alaric didn't.
Elara looked at Sebastian, then at Clara, then at Alaric standing between them for the first time since she'd walked into the building, she had no idea what she was looking at.
But she knew one thing: Sebastian was lying, and why Alaric was protective towards her, that he ignored her the whole afternoon.