Page 22 of Storm Warning
She studied his profile in the deepening dusk, the way the last light carved shadows along his jaw. “Because of memories?”
“Some,” he said, turning the cup between his palms, steam curling upward. “This is the first resort we built. But also because it’s the one place I’ve always believed could be more than just a business. It’s a chance to build something lasting.”
He paused, then added quietly, “Which makes what’s been happening all the more frustrating.”
Kate looked over, sensing a shift in his mood. “What do you mean?”
“It’s not only what happened with your room,” he said. “Today, we had a spa mix-up. A socialite—who lives to post everything—was given an intense detox treatment that left her blotchy and dizzy instead of the relaxing facial and massage she booked. Someone swapped the appointment in the system using a staff login that shouldn’t have had access.We caught it before she posted anything, but if she had…” He shook his head. “We’d have been trending for all the wrong reasons.”
Kate winced. “That would’ve been a PR nightmare.”
“Exactly. And it’s not the only thing. We reviewed the management incident reports for the past few weeks. We found food deliveries rerouted, staff schedules tampered with, positive online reviews flagged as fake—even though they weren’t. It’s like someone’s chipping away at our reputation, our foundation, one guest experience at a time.”
“Making it read like incompetence,” she said softly, her writer’s mind already cataloging the pattern.
He met her eyes, the worry clear in his. “Sabotage.”
“You think it’s connected to me?” She slanted a glance at him.
Nick hesitated, then shook his head. “No. I think you were a lucky convenience, another bad PR opportunity Victoria grabbed onto. But you’re not the only one being targeted. Nor do I think it’s a random coincidence this is happening now. We have to find out if someone is truly attacking us.” He frowned, a line deepening between his brows. “And whether the true target is the resort, the corporation, or us personally.”
A silence settled between them, broken only by the rustle of palm fronds and the rhythmic hush of waves against the shore. The glint of the dying sun played across his face, showcasing the weight he carried like a second skin.
“This is home? That’s why you push so hard,” she murmured. “Why this place matters so much.”
He looked over at her, eyes shadowed but earnest. “Yeah. It’s more than a business. It’s supposed to be safe. Solid. Something people can rely on.” His voice dropped a note. “Something I can rely on.”
Kate’s throat tightened, a sharp ache blooming beneath herribs. She knew that longing. The need to build something that couldn’t be taken away.
“I understand,” she said. “It’s why I write. Or… why I try to. To leave something lasting behind—even if it’s only on the page.”
Nick turned toward her, his expression softening in a way that made her heart stutter. “How’s it going? The writing.”
She let out a slow breath, vulnerability settling over her like a veil. “Some days better than others. I keep thinking I should be further along by now. That if I were… good enough, I wouldn’t struggle so much.”
“Is that what you really believe?” His voice was so gentle she had to look away, fixing her gaze on the darkening horizon.
“Sometimes,” she confessed, the words tasting bitter. “My ex used to say writing wasn’t an actual job. That if I could take a break whenever I wanted, then it didn’t count as work. I think I started believing it somewhere along the way.”
Nick’s jaw tightened, and anger glinted in his eyes. “He was wrong.”
Her throat constricted. “I know that. Mostly.”
“You don’t have to justify your life to anyone,” he insisted, his voice fierce. “Especially not to me.”
Something in her eased at his words, a knot loosening. She managed a smile and turned her gaze back to the sky. “Thank you.”
They fell into a comfortable silence. The last threads of sunlight dissolved into deep violet, and the stars blinked into view one by one, leading Kate to feel a little less like an imposter, and a little more like herself.
When she looked over, Nick’s eyelids drooped and the cup of tea dangled precariously in his hand.
“You look like you could use a proper meal and twelve hours of sleep,” she teased gently.
He cracked one eye open and gave her a wry grin. “I might take you up on that offer tomorrow.”
“Good. I’ll hold you to it.”
His lashes lowered again, dark crescents against his pale skin, and within moments, his breathing evened out. Kate watched him, her heart swelling with an unfamiliar tenderness. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had trusted her enough to let their guard down like this. The last time someone had slept next to her.