Page 2 of Storm Warning
She held out the tablet, but Ms. Evans ignored it. “I don’t need to look at that. I know the status of all our arrivals. No villas are available. We have perfectly lovely single rooms in the central building.”
Kate’s heart sank. A single room. With thin walls and neighboring guests and no room to spread out her research, no peace to think. The deadline loomed like a guillotine blade.
“I understand you’re busy,” Kate said, hating the way her voice wavered. “But I’m a writer on deadline, and I requested the villa for the workspace and quiet. Nine months ago. I’m not trying to be difficult, I just...”
She trailed off, rubbing her temples where a headache built. What was the point?
Ms. Evans’s lips curved in a thin smile. “Ms. Danvers, I’m sure you understand we cannot conjure accommodations out of thin air. Now, Lena will get you checked into a lovely room, and?—“
“Ms. Evans.” Lena’s determined voice wavered, even as her hands trembled. “I can see a guaranteed block in the system. Ms. Danvers is correct about her reservation.”
The woman’s expression went ice cold. “I wasn’t aware trainees had the authority to contradict management decisions. Perhaps we should discuss your future here at Ivory Sands.”
The threat hung in the air, and all color drained from Lena’s face.
“That seems unnecessary,” Kate said, voice gentle but firm. She may be too tired to shout, too worn down for dramatic confrontation, but she could do this. “Lena is being helpful and honest. I’d hate to think she’d be punished for doing her job.”
She met Ms. Evan’s eyes. “Look, I don’t want to cause problems. If there’s truly nothing available... give me a cabana on the beach for the night. A hammock. Anything. I just need to sleep, and we can sort this out in the morning.”
The words came out defeated, but honest. She simply didn’t have the energy for this battle, not tonight.
The entrance doors slid open with a soft hiss, cutting through the tension. Four men strode in with purposeful steps that rang with authority, heading straight for reception. Kate straightened in her chair, drawn by the sheer presence they commanded.
Her focus snagged on the man leading the group, and everything else faded to background noise. He moved with the controlled grace of someone who owned every space he entered, broad shoulders and athletic build evident beneath his impeccably tailored charcoal suit. Piercing green eyes swept over the reception area, pausing on her for a moment—long enough to spark a flutter in her tummy—before moving to Ms. Evans.
The other three fell into formation behind him: a massive linebacker of a man, a sharp-eyed geek with dark-framed glasses, and a young Black man who carried himself with quiet competence.
“Victoria, I’m glad you’re here,” the leader said, his deep voice resonating in Kate’s chest. “A storm delayed our trip to the island, so we diverted here. Please notify housekeeping we’ve arrived and have room service send cheese, fruit, and juice to the Residence.”
His gaze shifted, and Kate found herself pinned by thosegreen eyes as he stepped closer. “Excuse the interruption, ma’am. We’ll be out of your way in a moment.” The words were polite, courteous, but carried genuine warmth, unlike Victoria’s manufactured hospitality.
He turned back to Victoria, and Kate watched the transformation in astonishment. Gone was the ice queen; in her place stood a woman vibrating with obsequious attention.
“Of course, Mr. Ivory! I’ll call right away. Welcome back.” Victoria’s voice dripped with syrupy deference.
He glanced at the young man beside him. “Michael, you can head on upstairs with Zach. I’ll handle this.”
The massive man—Zach—nodded and headed toward the elevators with Michael following.
Mr. Ivory. Recognition sparked. Nicholas Ivory—the resort owner, the hospitality magnate whose empire spanned the globe. His face graced business magazines on a regular basis, though those photos had failed to capture the magnetic quality he possessed in person, the way he commanded the very air around him.
Kate’s cheeks flushed with mortification. She’d offered to sleep in a beach cabana. To the owner.
Victoria started toward a door at the back, but Nicholas held up one hand. “Actually, Victoria, before you make those calls, I’d like to understand what’s happening here.” He inclined his head toward a discreet camera mounted near the ceiling. “We observed the interaction from the car.”
Victoria’s face went blank, but Kate caught the flash of something in her eyes before the mask settled. “A reservation mix-up, Mr. Ivory. Nothing to concern yourself with. Lena was struggling, so I stepped in to help resolve the situation.”
“Is that so?” The man with glasses moved to lean against the desk beside Kate’s chair, flashing her a wicked smile as he pulled out his tablet. “Because from what I saw, youdismissed a guaranteed reservation claim without checking the system.”
Victoria’s lips thinned. “I don’t require the system. I know our inventory.”
“David...” Nicholas’s voice held absolute authority, and the man with the tablet—David—nodded, fingers already flying across his screen.
“On it.” Had they worked together so long, words were no longer necessary?
Kate felt like she’d stumbled into something much larger than her own problems, and the urge to sink into her chair and disappear intensified. She didn’t belong in this conversation, in this resort, in this world of five-thousand-dollar suits and resort empires.
“Got it,” David said after a moment, pushing his glasses up. “Ms. Danvers is 100% correct. Her reservation was booked for Sunset Villa, blocked and guaranteed. Confirmed last week.”