Page 3 of Storm Warning
Vindication swept through Kate, cutting through her exhaustion.
David’s eyebrows drew together. “It’s not available because another party checked in two days ago.” More clicking. “This is bad. The block was broken on Saturday. ALL blocks on ALL reservations were broken. No future reservations are blocked.”
The two men exchanged loaded looks, a silent conversation happening in glances and micro-expressions that spoke of long association. Kate’s writer’s brain cataloged it all through her fatigue—the trust, the shared history, the calibrated teamwork.
Nicholas turned to her, and the force of his regard made her breath catch. “Ms. Danvers, I believe you mentioned you’re an author and plan to write while here.” His voice wrapped around her like molten honey, smooth and rich, and despite her weariness, sparked that flutter in her stomach again.
Kate forced a smile. “Yes, I’m here to finish my currentnovel. I’m on a deadline, and I need a quiet place away from...” She gestured vaguely. “Away from distractions. Noise. People.”
Her voice cracked, betraying vulnerability, and heat crept up her neck.
The men exchanged another glance before Nicholas returned his gaze to hers. “We can give you that.” He shifted his focus to Lena. “Lena, please check Ms. Danvers into the Princess Suite.”
Lena’s turquoise eyes widened as she nodded.
Nicholas reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a business card. Without missing a beat, David’s hand extended toward him, a sleek silver pen appearing between his fingers—all while his eyes remained fixed on his tablet screen, never once glancing up.
Kate blinked at the seamless exchange. How had David known Nicholas needed a pen?
Nicholas took the pen smoothly and wrote something on the back of the card with confident strokes. The moment he finished, he held the pen up slightly. David’s hand rose again and plucked it from Nicholas’s grasp with perfect timing—still without looking up.
The whole interaction took perhaps five seconds. Perfect synchronization. Kate’s exhausted mind filed it away as another oddity in a very strange night.
Nicholas handed her the card, their fingers brushing for just a moment—warm and electric. Scrawled across the back was his personal cell phone number in a strong, masculine script.
“Do let me know if the suite is not acceptable for your needs. My apologies for this situation,” he continued. “The attitude displayed earlier is unacceptable and not representative of Ivory Sands.”
Kate’s shoulders relaxed for the first time since Lenatold her the villa was unavailable. Relief washed over her like cool water. “Thank you, Mr. Ivory. I... thank you.”
He offered her a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes before turning to David. “Anything else we should address now?”
David straightened. “The blocks were broken Saturday evening by ID #1178. Someone with system access did this deliberately.”
Victoria spoke up. “I’m sure it was an error. These systems can be temperamental?—“
“My system doesn’t make this kind of error,” David interrupted. “This was manual. It requires at least two levels of confirmation.”
Nicholas’s jaw tightened minutely. “Can you identify who?”
David’s fingers flew. In seconds, he glanced up. “ID #1178 is registered to Lena Harris.”
All eyes turned to Lena, whose face went ghost-white. “That’s not right!” Her voice came out higher, threaded with panic. “That’s not my ID. I’m #1176—here is my card.”
Her hands shook as she pulled out her ID and passed it to David.
David examined it, then tapped on his tablet. After a moment, his eyebrows rose. “Security issued 1176 to Lena Harris at orientation.” He hesitated, gaze shifting to Victoria. “Victoria Evans created ID 1178 the next day.”
The temperature dropped ten degrees as Nicholas’s eyes shuttered.
“Interesting,” Nicholas said, his mild tone carrying more weight than a shout. “Victoria, I’ll need you to come upstairs now. We have some questions about system access and protocols.”
Victoria’s composure cracked. “Of course, Mr. Ivory. Though I’m sure this is a simple misunderstanding?—“
“Now, please.” Steel within civility.
The elevator doors opened, and Zach stepped out. “Ms. Evans. If you will.”
Victoria walked toward the elevators, spine straight, her Louboutins snicking against the marble. No one in their right mind would disobey Zach using that tone.