Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
She took gentle hold of my wrist and led me across the room towards a table that was closer to the dais. Three men and a woman with red hair were sat around it. A nervous flutter went through my stomach as I recognized two right away. Had they lodged a complaint because of earlier?
“Is something wrong?” I questioned, testing the waters.
“Not at all,” Shana replied, flashing me a smile that didn’t match her easygoing tone.
As we closed in on the table, everyone seated turned to look our way. Shana stopped and positioned herself behind me, placing both her hands on my shoulders.
“Here she is.”
The man who walked in on me in his suite was the first to stand. He smiled and it gave him an entirely different aura. Upstairs he’d come off as unapproachable and somewhat cold. His smile morphed that demeanor into one of charm and intrigue. Lord help anyone with ovaries he graced with an actual grin.
This time I couldn’t stop myself from shifting uncomfortably beneath the weight of his unflinching gaze. I looked at Shana, so I didn’t have to hold his stare. “What did you need me for?”
“Mr. Hawthorne wanted to meet you.”
Hawthorne? Where had I heard that name before?
“I was just telling Ms. Dolion how impressed I was by you.”
This had to be some kind of joke. Even his tone was degrees warmer. He came around the table to stand in front of us. He’d changed since earlier. He was now dressed in a black three-piece suit that fit him perfectly. I tried and failed not to notice the way in which it seemed to hug his arms.
“I didn’t do anything other than my job,” I stated evenly, forcing myself to meet his stare.
“She’s always so modest,” Shana gushed, giving me a light squeeze.
Mr. Hawthorne made no attempt to hide his perusal, his gaze traveling over my body from head to toe. The people still sitting were doing the same, albeit a less thorough exam. I suddenly felt very much like one of the objects being brought to the dais.
My hands began to feel clammy from the unwarranted attention.
“You look different with your hair down.” This came from the man who’d made the sly remark upstairs.
Unsure how to take his comment, I forced a smile. At this rate, my face was going to split in half. I’d removed my ponytail and run a quick brush through it after changing into the provided uniform for this event. I hadn’t dared come in here with the mess atop my head that they had been subjected to earlier.
“You didn’t take the money. That says a lot about your character,” Mr. Hawthorne continued.
“I was simply doing my job,” I reiterated, probably harsher than necessary, but I was beginning to feel like a broken record.
“Bishop.” He made a gesture to his dark-haired companion. Almost immediately, he was handed a cylinder glass full of something ruby red.
“This was imported from our isle for tonight.” He turned towards me and extended the cup.
I was reminded of earlier when he offered me a tip. If I knew not accepting it would lead to this, I would’ve snatched the money in a heartbeat. I glanced at the glass and shook my head.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t accept this either. I really didn’t do anything extraordinary.”
Shana stepped out from behind me and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Go ahead and have a sip, sweetie. You deserve it.”
Sweetie? She hated that endearment. Had she undergone a personality transplant in the last few hours? There was so much wrong with this I didn’t know where to begin. For starters, she knew I wasn’t old enough to drink. In the privacy of my own home was one thing. Here was a completely different story.
Not only that, drinking on the job was expressly prohibited. It was a two-part clause in the employee contract we signed before working at the resort. She’d fired three girls for breaking it less than two months ago.
Her abrupt change in attitude further heightened my discomfort. As respectfully as I could, I removed her arm and put some space between us. She shot me a look that was a mix of apologetic and something else. Pleading? Desperate? Just like the woman who ate the scrap of paper.
My stomach knotted. Who the hell were the people at this table to make a veteran employee switch up so drastically and practically tremble with nerves? Specifically, the man in front of me. Would he take this rejection personally? When I looked at Shana again, I knew without a reasonable doubt she was doing this to please whoever this man was.
I was missing a crucial detail in this unfolding scenario, but I didn’t want to cause issues for Shana by flat-out rejecting him again. Withholding a sigh, I decided it was best to just get it over with and go about my night so I could find the woman in need of help.