At precisely nine o’clock in the morning on Saturday, Oliver pulls up in his black Aston Martin. The window of his car glides down and reveals his smiling face.
“Hey, Alayna. Did you wait long?”
“Hey, you’re just in time.”
“Come on in,” he invites, cocking his head. I open the passenger door and step inside.
Ollie said he’s going to briefly meet someone today, but I did not bother asking him where he’s going. He promised he’ll fetch me after the spa so we can go home together.
The receptionist at the G&E Spa acknowledges Oliver right away and assists us. I watch how he makes the receptionist blush with his captivating smile, which makes me realize Oliver is naturally kind to everyone. He introduces me to her. She tells me her name’s Sarah and calls over another young woman. I follow her to the back of the spa. Oliver waves at us and leaves the building.
Moving through the entrance is like entering another world. Every arched doorway is framed by pearl-colored silk, while ornamented pillows brighten elegant armchairs and chaise lounges.
There are small, decorative bamboo fountains, and soft instrumental music is playing through hidden speakers. The air smells of floral fragrances that warm my senses, making me feel like I’ve escaped into some kind of sophisticated garden.
The G&E Spa, owned by none other than Brandon Lucien, is luxurious, a generous treat for those who can afford it, and now I’m going to enjoy it for free. The attendant gives me a menu of treatments. The spa has individual suites for a sauna, manicure and pedicure salon, facials, a mustard foot soak to help with body aches and pains, and some skincare treatment packs.
She told me my gold certificate covers six thousand dollars’ worth of treatments—making me want to faint but also think I’m probably the luckiest of customers for getting such a card. I think thoroughly about what I need: a waxing, a specialty massage, and just general pampering. For once, I’m able to afford all three, and I couldn’t be more excited.
I take a deep breath and relax as the massage therapist’s expert hands move over my body.
After the lovely hours at the spa, Oliver is waiting for me in the lobby, reading a magazine. I clear my throat to get his attention, and he tenses up when he sees me.
“How did it go?”
I giggle. “I’ve never felt so light in my life. I feel amazing.”
He nods. “And I’m glad you enjoyed it. Come, I’ll take us somewhere we can eat for late lunch. Do you mind Mexican?”
“Mexican? Sure, I’d love to.”
The restaurant we go to is a casual outdoor place located in Hell’s Kitchen, on the West Side of Manhattan. I didn’t expect Oliver to take me here. Nonetheless, I don’t really mind.
We settle at a table, and my eyes widen at the menu. There are so many options—and they’re all so expensive. I wonder if I should take advantage of Oliver’s generosity or ask him to take us somewhere cheaper. A few minutes later, plates of quesadillas, taquitos, the restaurant’s famous chicken “I haven’t had Mexican food in such a long time.”
Oliver laughs at my reaction. He picks up a piece for himself. “This restaurant is one of my favorites. I know the chef.”
I look around us; almost all the tables are occupied. “It’s pretty popular, I see. Maybe we can try these dishes at home.”
“The kitchen’s yours, Alayna. I’ve seen how you got Brandon to try your own recipes even when you were told not to improvise,” he teases.
“Oh. I’m sorry about that.” I wipe my mouth with a napkin. “I’m just flexible when it comes to food.”
“It’s fine. Brandon likes it anyway.” He drinks his horchata with pleasure. “A real chef always brings out a masterpiece. An artist in the kitchen...”
***
It’s already past seven when we return home. My legs and feet already feel sore, so I soak my body in the Jacuzzi, adding some bath salts I got from the spa to the water. I choose some relaxing instrumental music and plug in my earbuds.
After the bath, I put on a very comfy silk robe and lie on my bed. I grab my phone and call Mom.
“How did your therapy go today?” I ask.
“I feel great, Alayna. The numbness in my left hand and fingertips has decreased. It’s amazing.”
“That’s so great to hear.”
It’s the first session of her therapy today, but I didn’t completely tell Mom why I suddenly have the means to send her to exclusive sessions. I wasn’t able to provide for her complete care before because the treatment is beyond our budget. But last week, Mom received a call from the best private orthopedic hospital in Lawrence, Kansas, and “I” “Thank you, but you still didn’t tell me how you managed to get me these treatments. I know hospitals like that with famous doctors who appear on TV are expensive.”
“I have a great signing bonus with my new employer,” I half-lie, though it is indeed what Brandon promised me. I just omitted the other details. “Besides, you’ve been suffering from it for years now. You and the kids are my priority.”
She sighs through the line. “But you still have to save for yourself.”
“Don’t worry, Mom. I can manage. I’m living the dream here. I finally get to see New York.”
“Oh, how is it there, honey?” she asks excitedly.
“I went for a walk around Manhattan today. I went to a relaxing spa and enjoyed a very delicious treat at a Mexican restaurant. Then I thought about you. I wish you were all here.”
“One day, darling. We can all be together again.” I feel her smile. “Just always remember: be good to your colleagues. It’s easier to work that way.”
“Don’t worry. My superiors are very kind and generous,” I say.
“I’m glad everything is going great with you. I know I shouldn’t worry about you, but I can’t help it.”
I chuckle. “There’s nothing to worry about. I promise.”
The rest of the weekend was full of relaxation. The pain in the muscles of my hands, arms, and back is gone. For the rest of Sunday, I spend all my time reading a new book and watching cooking shows on the internet.
On Monday morning, I deliver the food to the Master, and even if he doesn’t ask me how my weekend went, I thank him for the spa.
“It’s been so relaxing. Thank you.”
He nods casually and lifts the lid of his food. “You’re welcome, Miss Hart.” He sits at the table while I serve him and stops when he notices something else on his plate. “What is this?”
“It’s quesadillas. I know it’s not on your schedule, but Oliver and I went to a Mexican restaurant and had this. I just thought of making some for you. It’s really delicious.”
He raises an eyebrow and exhales.
“Is there something wrong? I can just take that away—”
“No, it’s fine.” He looks up at me. “But why is it that everything you do is against the rules?”
I couldn’t answer for a moment. He’s right, I’ve broken some rules, but he permitted it. I’ve added private touches in his meals, but he ate them anyway. He let me see him, allowed me to speak to him like this, while the others can only speak to him in that white room.
“I’m sorry if I’ve been so nosy. Maybe this is just the way I am. I mean, I’m not justifying it, I was wrong and—”
“Do you understand what’s happening here, Miss Hart?” he cuts me off, gazing up at me with his shrewd, penetrating eyes.
Semi-dazed by his question, I hold his gaze. I can’t get over how beautiful he is. “I’m sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable.”
“But you don’t.” His scowl darkens and his expression becomes confused. “It’s strange that you don’t.”
His words make my cheeks flare. “Sorry.”
“You keep saying sorry, but you still do whatever you want,” he states. “I might as well give you permission to do everything here.”
“What? You don’t have to do that.”
“But I have. In the future, you’ll have to tell me first before you want to add something to my meal before serving it to me.”
I finally smile in delight. “Of course, I will,” I say breathlessly.
“And I assume you know where these doors lead?” he asks, referring to the doors in his space. I nod. “Two doors on the right side lead to the library and the one on the left is to the gym.”
“Yes.”
“Except, of course, the door beside my bed—that’s my bathroom.”
“Yes, um, that too.” I briefly shut my eyes, remembering my first encounter with him. “Why are you giving me permission now, if I may ask?”
“You are like a storm, Miss Hart. With your very nosy character, anything could happen.”
What?“Now you can leave,” he instructs and picks up the quesadilla first, which adds to my joy.
I decide to just come back later to get the plates. I’ve disturbed him enough with my presumptuous actions. I might as well let the man eat peacefully.
I walk toward the door slowly, still all ears in case he has any comments about the food. I keep walking. As I’m about to walk out the door, he finally speaks.
“Alayna...”
I stop, still facing the door.
“Oliver is a good man,” he says unexpectedly. I turn around in surprise.
“Yes?” I ask, my forehead furrowed.
“But I don’t like to share.”