Jenna Black: Resistance

“I prefer to wear my own clothes,” she said, putting all the stubbornness in her core into the words.

For the first time, Mari’s smile faltered just a little. Her facial expression didn’t change much, but her eyes were somehow a shade less warm.

“You will not be allowed into the facilities in street clothes,” Mari explained patiently. “Proper attire is required if you want to use the pool, the spa, the gym, or any of our dining facilities. You’ll miss out on all the features that make a stay at Tranquility relaxing and enjoyable.”

Nadia couldn’t care less about the recreational opportunities she might be missing out on. However … “Are you telling me I can’t get any food if I’m wearing my own clothes?”

“You will not be permitted into the dining hall or into the cafes if you aren’t properly dressed, and I’m afraid we don’t provide room service.” A sharp edge had entered her voice, and Nadia knew she was well on her way to making an enemy.

Giving in was harder than she’d thought it would be, but in the end, Nadia knew she had no choice. If her stay here were only going to be a day or two, she might have gone hungry just on principle, but she couldn’t hold out for a week. She refused to contemplate the possibility that it might be longer.

“Fine,” she said with a frustrated huff. “I’ll change clothes.”

“A good choice,” Mari commented smugly. “I’ll wait outside while you change. You can put your street clothes in the locker for the duration of your stay. Let me know when you’re ready and I’ll give you the tour, then show you to your room.”

Nadia couldn’t manage a gracious response, so she settled for saying nothing.

Nadiadrew the line at changing into Tranquility underwear. She donned the powder-blue tunic and pants, which, as promised, fit her perfectly. Fearing Mari might check and notice that the undies were still in the locker in their sterile plastic packaging, Nadia unwrapped them and stuck them in the generous pocket of her pants. The bra made an odd-looking lump, but she hoped the tunic would hide it sufficiently.

Closing the locker, Nadia rested her forehead against the cool metal, trying to compose herself before she had to face the smiling demon again. There was a part of her that couldn’t believe this was really happening to her. She’d always believed that Executives who were forced to hide away in retreats had brought it on themselves, had scorned them for their lack of self-control or social skills. She’d suffered from the quaint delusion that at least some part of her future was under her control. Now she knew how wrong she had been. About everything.

Fighting off her sense of impending doom, Nadia let Mari know she was ready, and they began their tour.

If Nadia had checked herself into the place voluntarily, she might have found the Tranquility Retreat appealing. The grounds truly were beautiful, and the array of spa services available was almost dizzying. She could spend all day every day being shamelessly pampered, without a duty in the world. She could take a dip in the heated pool, steam her pores in the sauna, take yoga and aerobics classes, or just sit around doing nothing. She could eat in the grand dining hall, or at one of a handful of smaller outdoor cafes with lovely views and impressive menus. There were movies every night—shown from disc, naturally, rather than streamed from the net—and an impressive library brimming with books. But whereas many of the guests at Tranquility probably enjoyed being completely cut off from the outside world, Nadia already felt like she was suffocating.

The main building housed the administrative offices, the guest rooms, the library, and the dining hall. Another building about fifty yards away housed the spa and the entertainment center. There were two other buildings that Nadia could see as Mari dragged her along for what felt like an endless tour. Those buildings were much more utilitarian in form, plain rectangles with regularly spaced windows and only a few embellishments here and there. They were also a considerable distance away, and Mari ignored them as if they didn’t exist. Nadia suspected those were the psych and rehab facilities, where the “guests” were literally prisoners, unable to leave of their own free will.

“What are those buildings?” Nadia asked as Mari led her back to the main building at the end of the tour. Although she’d already guessed for herself, she was curious what Mari would say.

Mari kept smiling away, nauseatingly chipper. “Those are for our guests who require extra care,” she said breezily. “Everything you need will be in the main building or the spa, so the extra-care facilities aren’t included in the tour.”

“Could I go there if I wanted to?”

Mari looked at her as if she might be going nuts. “You could go to the lobby during visiting hours, if you wanted to, but there’s nothing of particular interest to see. Unless you know someone who is staying there?”

Nadia shook her head. The only person Nadia knew who’d spent any time in a retreat was Nate’s mother, and she barely remembered the woman. Nadia had been only six when Eleanor Hayes had entered an upstate retreat as a permanent resident. The Chairman Spouse had not been seen in public since, nor had she communicated in any way with Nate—or anyone else in the outside world that Nadia knew of.

“Speaking of visiting hours,” Mari continued, “they are Wednesdays from five P.M. to eight P.M., and Sundays from noon to three. You’ll be eligible for visitors after you’ve been with us for five nights, although we encourage friends and family to give our guests at least two weeks of complete peace before visiting.”

Mari beamed, as if the idea of being completely cut off from friends and family for two weeks were her idea of pure bliss. It took everything Nadia had to keep the barrage of scathing remarks that came to her mind from spilling out of her mouth.

Nateawakened from a deep, exhausted sleep to a bedroom that was still dark. The first hints of feeble light peeked around the edges of his curtains, but Nate wasn’t an early riser under the best of circumstances, and after the day he’d had yesterday, he was sure he could sleep for a week. He groaned and let his eyes blink shut for a moment before his sleep-fogged mind remembered that something had woken him up. A change of pressure, and the soft squeak of mattress springs.

Nate was lying facedown on top of the covers, having fallen into bed last night without even bothering to get undressed. The aftermath of Nadia’s arrest and their subsequent standoff with his father was draining the life out of him, and he fantasized about banning all reporters from the planet. They’d been after him all his life, but they were positively hounding him now. His neck was stiff as hell from lying in one position too long, but he slowly and painfully cranked it around to the other side.

Without the light on, Nate could only see a shadowy form sitting on the bed beside him, but something deeper than his conscious mind knew exactly who it was, as impossible as it might be.

“Kurt?” he asked in a hoarse croak, blinking a few times to try to force his boyfriend’s features to come clear.

Kurt reached out and brushed away a lock of hair that was plastered to the side of Nate’s face, a gentle, familiar touch that immediately made Nate’s heart—and other parts of him—ache with longing.

“You look like shit,” Kurt said with a shake of his now-bald head. “Your new valet allowed you to go to bed with your clothes on?”

Nate let out a soft snort. The idea that a valet could “let” the Chairman Heir do anything was laughable, though he had to admit, if Kurt had still held the position, he would have undressed Nate by force, if necessary. He was the bossiest valet Nate had ever met. And he was irreplaceable.