Page 11 of Maneater (The Mavens #1)
EIGHT
ROWAN
“I feel like I’m being set up, but it’s not me, Rowan. I need you to know that. I moved my whole family out here, changed everything so I could work this job, and you know I’m grateful.”
I nod, knowing this to be true. Not to mention, Jonas just ended his family vacation two days early to come in after hearing about the issues that have been arising.
My gut tells me the source of the issue isn’t the head of security at the Keys location.
He was the one employee I handpicked for this location.
When we opened this one, he was working as an assistant at one of our other resorts, and I knew he would be perfect for the job.
I offered him a solid raise and covered his moving costs as an incentive to take the position.
His wife was excited about the weather, but his kids, who are both in middle school, were upset.
I can’t think of a reason he’d try to fuck this up, knowing he’d get fired and most likely be blacklisted in the industry.
But then again, I can’t think of a single reason someone would want to fuck with my hotel in the first place.
I arrived at the resort early yesterday morning, checked into a room, and immediately began speaking with Daniel, the general manager, to learn about everything that had happened in the last month.
He didn’t give me much information I didn’t already know, though I did find out about a few more unreported incidents, such as double bookings of suites with no source attributed, as well as numerous double billings to guests that resulted in rightfully angry calls and even threats.
These events could seem innocuous and like some bad luck, but when combined, they start to paint an increasingly obvious and worrisome picture.
“You have to know, personally, that I think you’re in the clear.
But it doesn’t look great,” I tell him, and he nods.
The security system going down right before the fire is a huge red flag, and since our suspect seems to know the exact steps to take to avoid being caught on camera, we have to assume they are aware not only of the precise angles each is set to but also where the hidden cameras are.
“Is there anything at all you can give me? A direction, somewhere to investigate?”
Jonas sighs, a deep, broken sound, and I know the answer before he speaks.
“I’ve been trying to figure it out, to understand what the source is, but I can’t pin it. It’s different aspects of the business each time, varied enough that I can’t focus it on a single department.”
I nod, knowing this to be true, as I’ve come to the same conclusion. I’m starting to think I’m just going to have to wait for the next issue to arise before we can narrow things down.
Just then, my phone rings, and I groan, hoping I didn’t just summon one. When I look at the screen and see Sutton’s name, my nerves increase. She only calls if it’s something that needs to be addressed quickly, typically sending text messages or emails with updates throughout the day.
I turn back to Jonas. “Look, just keep an eye out, okay? Let me know if you find anything at all. I’ve gotta take this,” I say, and he nods, turning back to the monitors as I hit accept and bring the phone to my ear.
“Please have good news for me,” I beg my assistant, eyes closed and voice weary as I step into the hallway and move back toward my office. Silence fills the line, and my stomach drops to the ground. “Sutton…”
“Someone has leaked that Gene Michaels is there.”
My steps falter, and my stomach drops.
“What do you mean leaked?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady as irritation fills my body.
“I don’t know,” Sutton says. “Johnson over at Fan Magazine just called to give me an update. They can’t stop it from running?—”
“Why the fuck not?” I rage into my phone, ignoring the eyes that are moving in my direction. I give a tight smile to the couple actively glaring at me before I lower my voice. “Give them whatever they want, Sutton. Buy the story. They can’t run it, not with everything we already have going on.”
“You and I both know if they don’t run it, it will get sold somewhere else, and they won’t make even the smallest effort to ease the blow to us. We don’t have contacts like this everywhere, and he didn’t have to give me a heads-up. He’s doing us a solid by giving us that, Rowan.”
My pulse thrums in my head, the migraine that’s been brewing for the last twenty-four hours making itself known once again. Tightening my jaw, I step into a small alcove and take a deep breath, attempting to think rationally.
She’s right, of course. We need this contact at Fan to ensure we stay ahead of issues like this and to assist us in instances when we want paparazzi to leak information about our guests.
The first unintentional leak was at our Bora Bora resort almost a year ago.
We chalked it up to a one-time incident, though we never confirmed the source, something I regretted when it happened again three months later.
This would be the fifth leak in a year, each at a different location, and we’re no closer to understanding the source.
And it’s just what I need right now, with everything else happening. But again, this is why I’m the youngest VP Daydream has ever had: because shit happens, and I know how to keep a calm head and fix things.
“Okay.” I run my hand over my face as I try to settle my mind and think of next steps.
“Okay. Call up Leo; give him a heads-up. Tell him we’re attempting to locate the leak now, and we’re locking the place down as we speak, so no paparazzi will come in, no matter what.
We’ll…” I run scenarios through my mind as I try and think of a good solution.
“We’ll limit phone access in public spaces and try to keep photos from spreading. ”
“I can draft up a notice for staff right now,” Sutton says, voice going into business mode as well, and for the first time since she called while I was at the bar, a modicum of relief runs through me. We can do this. We can manage this. “I’ll inform them to phrase it as an opportunity to unplug.”
“Perfect. And in the meantime, we need to find out who keeps fucking with my resort.” I start walking again, moving toward the pool area where, at this time of day, Daniel should be mingling with guests.
“Do you think it could be the same person?” Sutton asks, and my steps slow. “I mean, if someone has it out for the resort, wouldn’t that be a good one to do?” I sigh and shake my head, then speak when I remember she can’t see me.
“I don’t think so. Those leaks started months ago, and never at this location.”
In fact, they started two weeks after Wes and Harper Holden stayed at the Punta Cana resort.
That leak was intentional, but the next one, revealing that a famous baseball player was fighting with his long-time girlfriend on the beach, was not.
I had hoped it was a one-time occurrence and had legal update all of our staff’s NDAs, but then it happened again at the Aruba resort a month and a half later.
It’s an issue that’s been plaguing me, but one that, all in all, is seemingly unavoidable. But now that it’s tied with the Keys resort…
“I’ll find what I can,” she says, reading my mind as always.
“Thanks, Sutton. I?—”
“I know, I know, you couldn’t function without me and are going to give me a raise. Oh, gosh, no, I couldn’t accept. Okay, fine,” she says in an imagined conversation with herself.
I let out a small laugh even though I’m not feeling jovial in the least.
“Just let me know if you hear anything,” I say.
“Got it, boss.”
The line clicks off as I make my way to the main pool in search of my fucking GM to try and find out what the fuck is happening here. Unfortunately, I’m stopped on my mission on the pool deck.
“Hey, Rowan, so happy you’re here,” Tanya, the spa manager, says, walking over to me, her long red hair swaying in a ponytail.
The first thing I notice is that, while she’s technically in uniform, it’s about two sizes too small, making the white polo fit tightly against her chest and showing far too much cleavage than is acceptable for a workplace.
I make a mental note to have Sutton confirm the uniform rules in the handbook and possibly have HR step in.
“Hey, Tanya. How are you?”
“Fine, except for, you know… everything going on.” She says it far too loud to be around guests, but it’s clear she’s got full dramatics on now: eyes wide with fake panic and concern, pouty lips, her hand moving to rest on my arm.
“It was so scary, that woman having an allergic reaction. I couldn’t believe it. ”
“Have we figured out how that happened?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
“No. The last time the mud was changed out was a week ago, and we used the same protocol as always.” She swallows like she’s nervous the finger is about to be pointed at her.
“I was there when it was changed. I swear, we didn’t do anything different or out of the ordinary.
We’ve even cut out the most common allergens from the spa: almonds and other nuts, soy, and gluten.
We only do milk on request and have a detailed protocol for cleaning it up.
We’ve even significantly reduced the use of fragranced items. I have no idea how it got in. ”
I nod, knowing all of this already. I was the one who put most of these things in place.
“Do you have the logs for when people have gone in and out of the supply rooms? Have we cleared out the room to make sure there are no other items that could cause an issue?” All security went down the night of the fire, something we’ve been investigating with little to no result.
Currently, my biggest concern is identifying who is responsible for this before something worse happens.
Since we’ve found no evidence of who could have tampered with the mud bath, I’m wondering if we have even more issues with the security cameras than we are aware of.