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Of course, she’s going to read them.
There’s not a lot of people who actually take the time to read the NDA in its entirety. Most of the time, when we offer a position, they’re more than happy to just sign so they can finally get more information about Nocté.
Rebecca was the last hire I offered the NDA to and she didn’t even bat an eyelash to review. She just signed. I’m fairly certain she still has no idea what really goes on up there since I never felt the need to fill her in.
“This says that I’m not even allowed to discuss Nocté with my spouse or friends,” she says, flipping the page.
“That’s right,” I say, nodding.
Her lips press tightly and I wonder what she’s thinking. Does she usually tell her spouse everything? And if so, will keeping Nocté under wraps be a problem?
“I can’t even allude to what I’m doing here?” She says it like a question, but she keeps reading, clearly not expecting an answer.
My pulse thrums in my ears, making it impossible to think of anything but the blood rushing through my goddamn body. I shift in my seat, letting her read.
When she reaches the end, she looks up. “This is an awful lot of secrecy for a nightclub.”
I nod.
She makes a face, one that’s hard to read. It’s like a cross between determination and consternation.
I lick my lower lip. “If it makes you feel better, it will all make sense after you sign.”
“I figured.” She taps her bottom lip with her index finger, rereading part of it.
I swallow hard. “And if you decide you don’t want to take the job afterward, I’ll totally understand. You’ll just need to stick to the NDA, even if we part ways.”
The last few words leave a bad taste in my mouth.
Again, she looks up sharply, then holds my gaze. “Why wouldn’t I want to take the job?”
“Reasons,” I mutter, sheepishly.
Honestly, I have no idea how she’ll react when she finds out what else we do here. I don’t know this new, older version of her. Not really. For all I know, she could be a prude or a religious zealot. She did get married in that church on the east hillside.
She blows out a puff of air.
“Saint,” Myles calls out, knocking on the door frame the way she usually does.
I glance up to see her eyes widen as she shifts from foot to foot.
I narrow my gaze. “What do you need, Myles?”
She clears her throat. “We may or may not be out of stir sticks again.”
I roll my eyes. “Fucksake.”
“And uh,” she shifts again from foot to foot, “can I talk to you out here for a sec?”
I shift my gaze to Lily. “You okay for a second?”
She nods. “Yeah, I’m going to just look this over one more time.”
“Okay.” I get up and walk out into the hallway with Myles. “What the hell else—”
“Get that blond bitch away from my bar. I’mbegging you,”Myles rush-whispers.
I pull up short, barely stopping myself from snickering. “What? Why?”
