Page 6 of Storm Warning
The living room stretched before her, and she drank it in with disbelieving eyes. A wall of windows towered two stories high at the far end, floor-to-ceiling glass that now reflected only darkness—the pure black expanse of water beyond merging with the night sky into an inky void that promised mysteries. She couldn’t wait to see it in daylight, to watch the sunrise paint the water in coral and gold.
“As you can see, this is the primary living room,” Mario said, moving past her with practiced ease.
Kate’s gaze swept over the room. The décor fused elegance with comfort, and spoke of exceptional taste and unlimited resources. Soft sage green walls created a soothing backdrop while potted palms and ferns infused the space with tropical vitality. A rattan sofa—the kind with cushions so deep youcould disappear into them—faced a limestone fireplace. Above it, a large flat-screen monitor hung like modern art, sleek and unobtrusive.
More rattan furniture scattered throughout, all with plush cushions in shades of cream and seafoam green. A loveseat and two chairs formed a conversation area, while additional seating faced those spectacular windows, positioned to capture whatever view waited beyond the glass.
“It’s beautiful,” Kate breathed, her eyes catching on the exquisite wooden pocket doors next to the fireplace. The wood gleamed with a rich finish, the grain flowing like water, and she wanted to run her fingers over the smooth surface.
“Those are the connecting doors to the owner’s residence,” Mario explained, following her gaze. “They can be opened to join the spaces together. There are locks on both sides, which are currently engaged, so you will have complete privacy.”
Relief washed through Kate so intensely it made her knees weak. Privacy. No risk of running into Nicholas Ivory while she looked like death warmed over, no awkward encounters over morning coffee when she hadn’t showered. She could write in peace, fall apart in private if she needed to, with no one to witness her struggle. An unexpected wave of disappointment swept away the relief.
“The outside grounds are shared with the house,” Mario continued, “and you are welcome to utilize the pool area. You’ll doubtless have it to yourself—the owners seldom use it. They work too much, even when they are here.”
He winked, and Kate smiled despite the exhaustion dragging at her. A pool. A private pool. The thought of floating in cool water under brilliant sunshine, letting the stress dissolve from her muscles, made something in her loosen.
“There is a pergola through those doors,” Mario gestured toFrench doors she hadn’t noticed, “and a balcony upstairs off the bedroom.”
He led the way to the right, where two arched doorways opened off the living room. Kate followed, heels tapping against gleaming marble before sinking into hand-hooked rugs in jewel tones, thick and luxurious under her feet.
“This front room is the kitchen,” Mario announced. “The cabinets and refrigerator are stocked with pantry basics, and room service will be here in the morning to stock fresh items. If there is anything in particular you want, dial 21 and let them know.”
Kate trailed him into the kitchen, and her heart lifted. It was small compared to the living room, but exquisitely appointed. Sleek stainless-steel appliances gleamed under warm pendant lights—a six-burner range, a double-door refrigerator, a dishwasher. Polished granite countertops in hues of cream and gray reflected the light, and an island with three bar stools offered a casual dining option.
It was leagues above her cramped kitchen with its ancient appliances and limited counter space. She’d dreamed about this kind of kitchen, where cooking would be a pleasure, not a chore.
“Through there is a half bath.” Mario pointed to a door almost hidden in the wall between the arched doorways.
He moved to the next arch, and Kate trailed behind, curiosity overriding jet lag. “Here is the office. It has a docking station, monitors, a multifunction printer, and all the basic supplies in the desk or cabinet. If you’d like a desktop computer or anything else, call the Business Center. Technology changes so quickly, only the basics are kept here. There should be a list of available equipment in the desk drawer.”
Kate stepped in and something in her chest expanded. The furniture was styled in the same rustic rattan as the living room, but the space felt purposeful, designed for productivity. Asubstantial desk faced more floor-to-ceiling windows, designed to capture natural light during the day. She could already imagine herself there, laptop open, fingers flying as words flowed.
The view outside showed lush grounds bathed in soft pathway lighting, palm fronds swaying in the breeze. Peaceful. Inspiring. Perfect.
“It’s perfect,” she whispered, and meant it. For the first time since she’d accepted this deadline, hope flickered—fragile as a candle flame, but real.
Mario withdrew, and Kate followed him back to the entryway, her gaze catching on a staircase winding upward. The treads were polished wood with an iron railing, curving gracefully to a balcony hallway that ran above the kitchen.
“Upstairs is the bedroom and master bath,” Mario explained. “If you’d like to explore or relax, I’ll get your luggage and bring it up for you.”
He disappeared outside, leaving her alone in the beautiful space. The silence settled around her like a blanket—not the oppressive quiet of her apartment, where every creak made her think of deadlines and failure, but a peaceful hush that invited rest.
She wandered back into the kitchen. When she opened the cabinet above the coffeemaker, the aroma of fresh coffee beans wafted out, rich and inviting. Inside, she discovered a cache of what looked like high-end Costa Rican coffee and a variety of Adagio teas in jewel-toned tins, alongside cream, sugar, honey, and everything else she might need.
No generic hotel coffee here. No cutting corners. Just quality, the same standard that permeated every detail of this place.
A relaxing drink before bed, something to calm her racing thoughts and help her sleep instead of lying awake worrying about word counts and plot holes. Kate selected a fragrantwhite tea—White Dawn, the delicate leaves pale and elegant—and started the electric kettle. The muted click and hum as it heated grounded her in the moment.
What a roller coaster of a day. She’d swung from exhausted despair to confrontation to... this. This impossible luxury, this unexpected kindness. Nicholas Ivory’s personal suite. His home.
The memory of green eyes focusing on her with genuine attention made her stomach flutter, and she pressed her palm against the cool granite countertop, willing herself to be sensible. He’d been kind because it was good business, because his front office manager had screwed up monumentally. Nothing more.
But God, he’d been so... present. So real. Not the distant, polished executive she’d expected, but someone who listened, who cared, who took her observations seriously instead of dismissing them.
Mario poked his head into the kitchen, interrupting her dangerous train of thought. “I put your computer case in the office, and the rest of your luggage in the bedroom. There are two safes here if you need them—one in the office closet, and the other in the bedroom closet. Is there anything else I can do for you before I leave?”
His voice rang with genuine warmth, and Kate’s throat tightened with unexpected emotion. After the day she’d had, this kindness was a balm to a wound.