40. Sebastian
Idon’t hear from Mila for hours. I assume she’s at the hotel and surrounded by people. Knowing her, she feels she’s broken enough rules and won’t take out her phone for anything until she’s off work.
At five, when she should be done, I text her again. Let’s have a nice relaxing evening.
Nothing.
My stomach clenches. Has something gone wrong?
I’m not waiting around. I don’t care if I’m not supposed to be up there.
Arya looks up as I stomp past the sofa. I told her Mila and I had been outed today, although not the circumstances. “You all right?”
“Mila’s not responding.”
She leaps up and manages to beat me to the door. “Stop. Use your head. What was the last thing you two said to each other?”
“She asked to come over. I said absolutely.”
“When was that?”
“Around one.”
Arya frowns. “That’s hours ago.”
“I assumed she was working, but now she shouldn’t be.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“Why?”
“So you don’t do anything dumb!”
I lift her and set her aside. “I don’t do dumb things.”
“You do dumb things when women are involved!”
I don’t have time for this. I wrench the door open, but when I get my car unlocked, Arya is already in the passenger seat.
“Did you lock the front door?” I ask her.
“No.”
“You going to go do it?”
“No. You’ll drive off without me.”
She’s right.
“Sebastian, use your head. What if she’s upset? What if she needs a minute? What if she’s on her way here?”
I drop my head against the back of the seat. “What if Raya’s giving her hell and she needs someone on her side?”
“Should that be you?”
“Absolutely.”
“Well, go lock the door,” she says.
I look down at her bare feet. “Go get some shoes and lock the door. I won’t leave without you.”
She stares at me a moment. “I’m not sure I believe you.”
“I swear on my grave.”
“Swear on Alfalfa’s grave.”
Gah. She’s got me. “I swear on our puppy dog’s grave.”
She opens the door and gets out.
I consider gunning it, but I don’t. She’s probably right to come as a buffer. She and Mila have totally hit it off. She’s been showing Mila how to paint while Mila teaches her interior design principles. They’re always up to something when I’m cooking.
I grip the steering wheel. Am I prepared to jettison this job over her?
Totally. Absolutely.
Arya launches back into the car, a pair of yellow Converse in her arms. “Let’s go.”
I race to the hotel, cursing myself for accepting Jessie and Raya’s insistence that I leave for the day. I should have been there. Mila is bound to be upset.
When we get to the hotel, I get my first shock of the evening when my ID won’t open the back door.
What the ever-loving hell?
It’s five-twenty, and most of the professional staff will have left already. Housekeeping and the kitchen staff will be there, though.
“Should we drive around front?” Arya asks.
We might have to.
I stand there, knowing that only Raya currently has the level of access to cut me out with Havannah gone. The only other person is Hank in security, but he was off today.
Why would she do this? They can’t make a decision as big as firing me without Havannah’s involvement.
Unless they are planning to put me on a leave of absence until she returns.
“All right,” I say. “Let’s go around.” It won’t help much, as I’ll only be able to go into the lobby without my own ID badge working. Sasha will be there, though, and her clearance is pretty high.
We only take about three steps when the door pops open. I turn around.
It’s Maverick of all people, holding a bin of what appears to be chopped hay.
I grab the door before it can close. “What do you have there?” I ask, mainly to stop him so I can judge if he knows anything.
“Jed had the kitchens mix some greens into the hay for the pregnant donkeys.” He heads on, but manages to toss back, “I heard you finally got busted.” He laughs. “We’re all black sheep.”
I exchange a glance with Arya.
“He didn’t even say hello to me,” she says.
“Well, we learned two things,” I say. “People know about Mila, but not that I’m pushed out.”
We walk inside the hall to the competing smells of laundry detergent and cooking, which is like home to me.
“I haven’t been up here in a while,” Arya says.
I text Mila again. I’m at the hotel.
Still nothing.
An additional concern hits me. What if they told her she couldn’t talk to me anymore? How did they threaten her, exactly?
My anger surges. Now I’m pissed.
“Who do you think leaked the information?” Arya asks. “It should only have been a very small group who knew.”
“Raya came in with someone. They might have seen.”
Anna’s office is locked up and dark.
“Or else Raya leaked it for her advantage.”
“Could be.”
Raya’s door is open. She’s still here.
I’m ready to go in, guns blazing, but Arya must know because she grabs my arm. “No, no. Not her first. Let’s see if Jessie is around.”
It takes everything I have not to charge in there, anyway.
But she’s right. Ordinarily, Jessie would have to sign off on my access getting cut. If she didn’t, Raya did it on her own.
“Let’s go around,” I tell Arya, and pull her toward the kitchen.
We cut through the bakery, walking alongside the wall with Monique and Filo’s office, the pantry, and the walk-in freezer.
The scene of Maverick’s crime.
A few cooks notice us, but nobody looks at me with surprise, like they know something. It’s not common knowledge, not yet.
How did Maverick find out?
We cut down a narrow passage between the kitchen and the main hall, beyond Raya’s office. It leads straight to the staff meeting room, which is also dark. Then HR.
I check the door. Unlocked.
I pop it open. The three desks in the main room are empty, but Jessie’s office is lit up.
“Wait here,” I tell Arya. I hand her my phone. “If Mila texts, tell her I’m with Jessie.”
She sits in Suze’s chair, touching my screen to keep the phone unlocked.
I stride quickly to the back.
Jessie looks up in surprise. “Sebastian? I thought we asked you to stay home.”
I throw my ID on the desk. “So you all could cut off my access to the hotel?”
She picks it up. “What are you talking about?”
“Did you or Raya tell Mila she couldn’t contact me?”
She pushes back away from the desk. “We did not. Or, I didn’t. Is something wrong with Mila?”
“She’s not responding to my messages.”
Jessie’s expression flickers. “She was shook up after her meeting with me. She might need some time to herself.”
“She would write me back. I know it. Unless someone told her something bad would happen if she did.”
She picks up my ID again. “Let me check this.”
She scans it on the machine we use to program the IDs. A message flashes on her screen. “No records.”
“What?” She scans it again.
“No records.”
She takes her own ID and scans it.
The screen fills with information. Jessie Styles. Human resources. There’s a long list of security and lock access notes.
“I’m not authorized to change your high-level ID,” Jessie says. “Who is?”
“Hank, Havannah, and Raya.”
Her mouth goes in a tight line.
“I saw Maverick, and he knew about Mila. Who all knows?”
She shakes her head. “This is bad. And Havannah is out.” She sighs. “Couldn’t you have gotten caught on a day the owner isn’t in labor?”
“My priority is Mila. Did you tell her to take today off, too?”
“No. We were trying to figure out what to do with her, given Havannah’s last request was literally to make it like Maverick.”
“Did she go to the barn?” Maybe reception is bad out there.
“No.” Jessie bites her lip.
“Spit it out.”
“Raya came in with the idea so fast that I think she might have already known what she wanted to do.”
I lean forward, both arms on Jessie’s desk. “Where is Mila?”
“She’s been stripped of access to the hotel, other than her room. She’s been sent to work at the Tasty Mango.”
“The deli? She has a degree in hospitality!”
“I know, I know. I figured it would be fine for a couple of days, until Raya calmed down.”
I back away. “Is she still there?”
“I don’t really know. Raya went to tell her.”
“And probably told her not to talk to me. And also cut my access. Is this her way of gunning for my job?”
“I don’t know.”
“What else could she do?” I pace the small office.
“Do you have other secrets?”
“No.”
“Then you have nothing to worry about.” Jessie comes around the desk. “Go home, Sebastian. Take the rest of the week. Let Mila work at the deli. It won’t kill her, and if anything, it will endear her to Havannah. I’ll deal with Raya. Let us handle it.”
That’s the last thing I want to do.
Arya comes to the door. “She texted.”
“Mila?” I lunge for the phone.
Mila: Worked at Havannah’s deli today. Up to my elbows in pickle juice. Shuttle still hasn’t come for me. Can you pick me up?
A thousand rivers of relief course through me. I don’t care about the hotel as long as Mila is all right.
Me: Absolutely. Be right there.
I turn to Jessie. “I’ll stay away. But Raya has broken protocol herself now. Watch her.”
Jessie nods. “I will.”