The Employer

Chapter 16

Marc Nassar

I used to travel a lot before the twins. Dubai, Japan, and Lagos were among my favorite cities to visit for their unique, sprawling adventures.

Every time I took a trip to a new country, I'd start off visiting the places listed in my fully planned out itinerary. I knew what to expect, and those tourist areas, restaurants, and hotels always delivered. But then as a trip went on, I'd find myself going off script, adventuring into hidden areas that I happened to stumble across.

One time on a trip to India, I got lost in the streets of a market I found. It was both terrifying and thrilling at the same time with sights, sounds, and flavors painting my sensory receptors unlike ever before.

And now, as I replay the voice note from Celeste for the millionth time, I'm reminded of that feeling in the middle of the market, in a country so different from where I grew up. The fear of not knowing where to go mixed so potently with the excitement of uninhibited adventure. That feeling drums fast, and steady against my chest as a faint whimper plays aloud on my phone.

Celeste and I have already crossed so many boundaries. It's clear I am no longer following the itinerary but am going off script, directionless and chartering in territory that could either suffocate me or lead me to the best experience of my life. The question is, do I explore it or get out as fast as I can?

I sigh and play the voice note again. If anyone heard this, they'd think it was nothing. Muffled sounds of someone getting up from a chair, perhaps. It's about ten seconds of what is potentially Celeste getting into bed and rustling some sheets in the process. An accidental voicemail with no real meaning.

Yet with her text about her in underwear touching herself–a text that is now forever burned in my memory bank–I'm not so sure. Last night, as the NSFW images circulated through my brain and the voice note played over and over again like some pop music hit, I relieved myself before my balls could burst. A part of me wanted to head straight to her room to check if she was just messing with me or if she was actually touching herself. But thankfully, logic and self-control reigned. I need time to assess what to do versus acting like a teenager sneaking out of the house.

I glance at the clock and it's now 6:45, fifteen minutes past when Celeste was supposed to be here to help me with breakfast and talk about things with the twins.

Just talk, nothing else.

I grab my phone, pull up her number, and hit the call button. After a few rings and no answer, I try again. Hopefully Kristina relayed the timing with Celeste last night. The girls will be up very soon and I want to surprise them.

Finally, Celeste's groggy voice streams through. "Hello?"

My heart flutters and I press a palm against the cold, marble countertop. "Hey, Celeste. Are you on your way up to the kitchen?"

"Who is this?"

"It's Marc."

"Marc? How do you have my number?" I hear movement through the phone.

"We texted last night."

"What? No we didn't. I don't have your number. Shit, what time is it?" I hear more movement, and set her on speaker to go look through my texts, now doubting myself, despite how much I looked at our message exchange. We did indeed text last night. "Fuck, I'm so sorry, Marc. You need me for breakfast today, right? I'll be over in five minutes."

The line cuts and my chest tightens. How could Celeste not remember those texts? Maybe it's too early in the morning for her? Or she could have had some drinks with the rest of the staff as last night was their TV night. How much did she have to drink? I thought Celeste had sent the messages because she liked to push my buttons, yet now...Was she drunk?