Rage slammed into me so hard it was almost dizzying. That man—unconscious, useless on the floor—had hurt her. Before I could reach her, the police stepped in to take her statement. I waited, barely patient, watching every movement, every flinch, every tight breath she took.
The police questioned me briefly, given that I was the owner’s son. When they finished, I scanned the room again.
She was gone.
I went upstairs, my steps quickening, and noticed her door slightly ajar. Not wanting to startle her, I pushed it open gently.
Nyah stood inside, her blouse rolled up, carefully tending to the wound on her stomach.
The sight sent another surge of anger through me. I cleared my throat and coughed softly to announce my presence. “Um… sorry. I didn’t knock. Can I help you with that?”
She froze for half a second before rolling her blouse back down, her movements quick, defensive. When she turned to face me, her eyes were already sharp. “I think you’ve done more than enough,” she said tightly. “You clearly want me gone.”
“Want you gone?” I repeated, stepping closer before I could stop myself. I grimaced. “That’s the second time you’ve implied that. What are you talking about?”
“You,” she said, frustration spilling out now. “With your plans and your new suggestions and setting up meetings and—” Her hands lifted, gesturing helplessly in the air. “All of it.”
I moved closer again, drawn in despite the warning in her tone.
She noticed. Her breath stuttered, and her shoulders squared. “What are you doing?” she asked.
I was too close now. Close enough to see the tension in her jaw, the faint sheen of sweat at her temple. The soft, floral scent of her perfume reached me, and my pulse responded instantly. I met her gaze and lowered my voice. “If you think I’m doing all of this to take the hotel and get rid of you, you’re wrong. I just wanted you to see what I’m capable of,” I continued, quieter now, the words carrying more weight than I’d intended.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
I exhaled and forced myself to step back. Turning toward the door,I added, “Your job is safe.” I didn’t look at her. “No one, including me, can or will ever take it from you.” My hand paused on the door handle. “I’ll reschedule the meetings for tomorrow.”
I shut the door behind me and walked to my office. Inside, I stood there, staring at it as if it might answer me.Why didn’t she trust me? What had I done to make her think I wanted her fired?I’d said those words before—too sharply, too carelessly. Remembering them now, I wished I could rewind time and swallow them whole.
I didn’t want her gone. I was already getting used to her, looking forward to her presence, her insight, the way she challenged me without trying to.
I sank into my chair, replaying every interaction, searching for the exact moment I’d gone wrong.
My thoughts drifted, uninvited, to the night she’d passed out in my car after the club, carrying her and her bag and fumbling with her apartment door. The strange relief when Larry—was that his name?—had appeared to help.
Even unconscious, she’d trusted me.
Sober… not so much.
Just like she hadn’t told me what happened at Greg’s barbecue.
The anger I’d tried to suppress that night flared again. I hadn’t realized how tightly I’d been gripping the steering wheel until my hands started to ache. Greg’s words echoed in my head—how Beth had insulted Nyah. He’d told me so I wouldn’t doubt her if she ever mentioned it herself.
She never did.
How could she be so composed? Beth had humiliated her, and Nyah had still smiled, still helped, still acted as if none of it mattered. On the ride home, she’d been relaxed, polite—even joking—like racism was just another obstacle she’d learned to step around with quiet dignity.
I’d gone back inside and given Beth a piece of my mind, but it hadn’t been enough. If Greg hadn’t told me, I never would have known. Nyah would have carried it alone.
Any other woman might have walked out. Might have demanded an apology.
Nyah hadn’t said a word.
There was a kind of grace in her that transcended the country-club world I’d grown up in—and realizing that made me understand just how extraordinary she really was.
Now, as I stared out the window, another image surfaced: the man bleeding on the bathroom floor. Nyah standing over him.
She’d helped Linda—but she’d also done that.
