I want to know about your family.” “What about them?” “Your mother is sick?” I nod. “She has a brain tumor.” “I’m sorry to hear that.” “I’m sorry that it’s true,” I murmur. “And you have a sister, too?” “She’s mine. My baby. Adrian.” His palm cups my forehead, holding my head up as I lean forward, mostly limp. His fingers get to know each pressure point along my neck and shoulders. “You’re tight. Take a few deep breaths. That’s right, Angel.” “This feels amazing.” “Good. You deserve amazing.” “So…nice of you,” I whisper. “My pleasure,” he says. “In fact, it’s my demand.” His voice, hanging in the air behind me, asks, “How long were you looking for a job?”
