Page 74 of Sweeter than Honey
The week goes by in a wonderful blur. I feel high off of my date with Renata. And she seems to operate at peak efficiency, strengthened by my blood, I’d like to think. Unfortunately, it’s so busy at the hotel, I hardly get to see her. There’s a big wedding coming up, and the witch conference. It’s exciting, but there’s barely a moment to spare.
Today’s a Friday, and I’m working a day shift, so I only get to overlap with Renata for an hour in the morning. I’m debating whether I should talk to her about changing my schedule. Perhaps if I give Chelsie and the interns a little more responsibility during the day, I could work nights more often. It shouldn’t be a problem, now that Eli is in daycare. When he goes to school in September, it will be even easier. I can drop him off at school in the morning and then sleep during the day. My mom’s been basically living at our house, so she can keep an eye on him overnight.
Yes, I’m definitely going to ask her about it…
My phone chimes to remind me that my workday is wrapping up. I send off a few more emails, and I debate whether I should work late today. But I’m tired, and I shouldn’t push myself too hard. Maybe tomorrow morning, if I have some extra time, I can draft a proposed fall schedule for myself.
Pleased with my productivity today, I log off on my computer and grab my purse. I wave goodbye to the receptionist and press the elevator button.
One of the many great things about living at the hotel is the short commute. And I have a few hours before I have to pick up Eli from daycare. I consider picking him up early, but then I decide to have a bath first. Yes, perfect. I’ll have a lovely bath with my book, then I’ll go get Eli, and maybe we can go to the lounge for dinner. I think Amara is working tonight, it’ll be nice to see her.
Looking forward to a pleasant soak in my big tub, I tap my key card to the panel on my door and enter the suite. I toss my purse on the foyer table and kick off my shoes.
I turn into my living room and stop in my tracks.
Sitting on my couch is my ex-husband.
“Dylan!” I shriek, flipping on the lights. “Whatare you doing here?”
He’s wearing his usual suit and tie, like he just came from the office. His hair is a little messy and his tie is crooked, as always. He stands when he sees me, an aggressive gleam in his eye. That familiar sense of fear rises up in me. I’d almost forgotten what it felt like.
“Did youbreakinto my apartment?” I squeak. I wish I sounded more confident, but I’m completely taken by surprise.
“Don’t be hysterical,” he replies. His voice is hard and serious. “Your mom let me in.”
“Mom!” I shout. There’s something I don’t like about the way Dylan is looking at me. I want to have someone else nearby.
“She’s not here,” Dylan says, taking a step toward me. I move backward, backed into the corner of the living room. “She went back to her apartment, so that we can talk.”
“Talk about what?” I ask. “I don’t have anything to talk to you about.”
“Well, I have something to talk toyouabout,” Dylan says angrily.
I don’t like how he’s acting. I forgot how much I hate it when he gets upset like this. There’s a frightened tremor in my voice. “Just…just calm down, Dylan…”
But this only riles him up further. “Don’t tell me to calm down, Lily! You’ve been blocking my calls for weeks. I have a right to be angry.”
I know I don’t owe him my time, but I’m scared to tell him that. I also know how he can get when he’s upset like this, and I’m very aware that we’re alone in the suite. He stands between me and the land line on the side table, and my phone is in my purse in the foyer.
“Ok, fine.” I swallow nervously. “What do you want to talk to me about?”
“I know what you’re doing here,” he says, viciously. “At first, it was just rumours. But now I have proof.”
“Rumours ofwhat?” I ask, but my palms are starting to sweat.
“Rumours that this hotel is a mafia front,” Dylan says.
My stomach drops. But…but he can’t have any real proof, can he? Celine and Renata keep everything running so tightly, there’s no way…
But then Dylan reaches behind him and grabs something off the couch.
“My laptop!” I gasp. I reach for it, but he pulls it back. It’s my personal laptop. “How did you…?”
“It was easy to guess the password,” Dylan says, a mirthless smirk on his face. “Your dad’s birthday. A little basic of you, huh, Lilyboo?”
Desperate tears start to form in my eyes, but I refuse to cry right now. “Dylan, give me back my laptop.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he says with a sneer. “I’ve already downloaded everything I need. All of the photos, all of the bank receipts and secret transactions. You really shouldn’t have work information on your personal laptop, Lily.”