Page 154 of The Business of Love Box Set 1: Books 1 - 4

KATIE

M y life had been all business since returning to St. John last week.

Peter and I hadn’t seen nearly as much of each other as we wanted—or deserved—so when I knocked on the hotel manager’s office door on Monday morning for my annual review meeting, I had the full intention of discussing my options of pulling back only a little so I could have a more reasonable work-life balance.

Prior to meeting Peter, I would have been happy to continue the year ahead with my usual seventy-hour work weeks.

But now that I had someone who I couldn’t stop thinking or dreaming about, my perspective on time and what was important had shifted.

I was a little nervous when my boss called for me to come on in.

I pushed the door open and poked my head around it. “Good morning, Evan.”

Evan, the manager of the El Cartana for over a decade, had his head down and was typing speedily on his laptop. He didn’t look up, but he raised one hand from the keyboard to gesture for me to sit on the brown leather chair across from his desk.

I stepped across the rich burgundy carpet and took a seat, where I waited quietly for him to finish up what I assumed was an email.

When he finished, he took his glasses off, set them down to his right beside a framed photo of his wife and two daughters, and closed his laptop. “Thank you for waiting, Katie. It’s been a busy morning. Lots of changes happening at the hotel.”

“Good changes?”

He shrugged one shoulder and leaned back in his chair.

Evan was a decent-looking man. He had that weary look to him that I thought all management grew into eventually—crow’s feet at the corners of his steel blue eyes, creases of permanent concern in his forehead, a permanently clenched jaw from dealing with unreliable employees calling in sick or no-showing for their shifts.

When I first started working there, his hair had been salt and pepper but mostly pepper.

Now he’d gone nearly completely white near his temples. Still, he was handsome.

He’d worked in the hospitality industry since he was sixteen years old when he started as a busboy at one of the restaurants.

He soon moved up to server, then to bartender, to bar manager.

From there, his career only endured upward growth until he started managing small hotels.

Eventually, he landed larger contracts until now, at fifty-two, he oversaw all operations of one of the most luxurious hotels in the Caribbean.

“Changes that must be tended to sooner rather than later,” Evan said. “It’s good timing that you and I had this meeting scheduled for this morning.”

“Is it?” I asked nervously.

He chuckled. “Don’t worry, Katie. You’re not going anywhere. Profits at the El Cartana went up fifteen percent after you were brought onto the team and they’ve stayed consistent. The boss man knows how essential you are to his business.”

I let out a little sigh of relief and sank deeper into my chair. I noticed I’d been gripping the armrests so tightly the tendons in my forearms had started to ache. I released them and forced myself to smile. “That’s good news.”

“Yes, however, I do have some things to review with you that I don’t think you’ll be thrilled about. I tried to change his mind, I hope you realize. But once Mr. Tucker sets his mind to a thing, it’s difficult to sway him.”

Oh God, what is it?

Evan opened one of the drawers in the side of his desk.

One of the rollers squeaked and he muttered under his breath about how he needed to fix that.

He sifted through files for a minute before pulling out mine.

The folder was light pink, the same one all my records had been kept in since I was brought on, and I noticed it was thicker this year.

He flipped it open, closed the drawer, and put his glasses back on so he could squint at the paperwork.

“All right,” Evan began. “Do you want the good or the bad first?”

“Bad.”

“Very well. Mr. Tucker has updated employee policies and benefits effective in January. Employees will no longer be able to reside in the hotel suites in any capacity. So unfortunately, I’ll need you to find another residence by the beginning of next year.

I’m sorry, Katie. I know how much of an inconvenience this is. ”

I blinked.

My suite was my home and had been for several years now.

“He’s evicting me?” I asked.

Evan sighed and nodded, clearly put off by the boss’s move as well. “Yes. I tried to change his mind but he wouldn’t budge. He sees those rooms as costing him too much money.”

“Costing him money?” I asked sharply. Then I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them again.

“I’m sorry, Evan. I don’t mean to get short with you.

I’m just frustrated. Does Mr. Tucker realize how much of a cut to my pay this is?

Not having to pay for residence is a huge perk to my salary.

Living on St. John will cost me at least a thousand dollars a month. ”

Evan nodded his understanding. “Yes, I brought that up with him and negotiated a salary increase for you.”

“Oh, you did?”

“Yes. It didn’t seem right not to compensate you.

Mr. Tucker can charge what your rent would cost you for one night at the El Cartana, so he can certainly afford to cover your living expenses moving forward.

The hotel is offering a twenty percent salary increase for next year as well as a five-thousand- dollar bonus to cover relocation, first and last month’s rent, and any deposits you might have to make at your new place. ”

I licked my lips.

Well I can’t really argue with that, can I?

“I guess that’s fair,” I said.

Evan removed his glasses once more. “Fair is subjective, I suppose. I’m aware you won’t find anything as nice as your suite here at a reasonable price.

I’m sorry you’re being kicked out of a place that’s been home to you for so long and that you’ll have to commute to work in the mornings on top of it. ”

“I hadn’t even thought of that,” I muttered.

Evan grimaced. “I will follow up with Mr. Tucker sometime over the next couple of months when I detect he’s in a gracious mood. Maybe I can get him to throw a little more of a Christmas bonus your way so you can get yourself a car or something.”

“I would be grateful for that, Evan. Truly.”

“Leave it with me.”

“Is there more bad news or are we done with that part?”

Evan clasped his hands on the desk and peered down at my file.

“As always, your performance is impressive. There is no other bad news. We received more customer letters of recognition about you this past year than any others. Somehow, you manage to step up your game every year. Care to share your secrets, Katie?”

I smiled. “Sorry, but I don’t have any secrets. I love my job. I love my clients. And my boss isn’t too shabby.”

He chuckled. “Well my boss can be a royal pain in my ass.”

I snickered.

“Don’t tell him I said that,” Evan added with a lopsided smile.

I drew my fingers across my mouth like I was closing a zipper. “Lips are sealed. This is a safe space.”

Evan quickly thumbed through the rest of my file. Then his eyes narrowed. “Ah, I missed something. There is a bit more bad news.”

“Shit.”

“I can’t honor the two free nights you reserved for that friend of yours. A Mr. Peter Stenley? Mr. Tucker has also revoked the use of free overnights for family and friends effective immediately.”

“Damn it,” I grumbled.

“Damn it indeed. I had arranged for my family to come spend a few nights in December when all of the Christmas decor was up. Bloody business tycoons and their tight-fisted greed.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Tell me how you really feel, why don’t you?”

Evan chuckled. “Well, that’s how I feel. I’ve already told the wife I’m bringing her and the kids here, so I can’t cancel on them. My holidays just got infinitely more expensive.”

I gave him a wry smile. “I’m trying to feel sympathetic to your plight, but seeing as how I’ve just been told I’m getting kicked out of my home, I’m struggling.”

Evan tapped the side of his nose. “Ah yes, perspective.”

Evan and I spent the last forty-five minutes of our meeting reviewing my file and my customer reviews. None were negative. It was my first year where I didn’t have a single complaint about my coordination team or myself. The pride I felt was incomparable to anything else I’d felt in my career.

When Evan sent me on my way so he could meet with his next employee, there was a pep in my step from my reviews but a sinking feeling in my gut at the prospect of having to move out of my suite.

I’d fallen in love with the glitz and glamour of the lifestyle I lived here.

I liked my polished marble floors, my maid service, and my king-sized bed with a fluffy duvet and feather mattress cover.

I slept like a baby on that thing. No, an angel.

Now I’d have to buy my own bed.

I’ll have to buy everything, I thought with horror.

Coffeemaker, coffee mugs, dishware, furniture, decor—everything!

I had a headache by the time I reached the lobby, where I was meeting W.

Parker for his late checkout. He’d come to the hotel for a short three-night visit for yet another writing retreat.

He’d been spending far more time at the El Cartana as of late than usual, and I wondered to myself if he was having issues with his book.

Usually when he made more appearances than just two or three a year, it was because he was on a deadline and his writer’s block was eating away at his insides.

Or so he’d told me.

I met Mr. Parker at the check-in desk, where he was on his phone talking heatedly into the mouthpiece. When I moved behind the desk and greeted him with a smile, he muttered to the person that he’d call them back, hung up, and smiled tiredly at me.

“Hey, Katie.”

“Mr. Parker.” I smiled. “How was your visit this go around?”

“Excellent as always. Sorry about that. My agent won’t get off my damn back. She’s like a cockroach, that woman. She can smell it when I’m struggling with my book. How do you women do that?”

“Do what?”

“Know in your bones what’s happening on the other side of the world in someone else’s head?”

I laughed. “Well, I’m not sure that’s a universal skill all women have. But that agent of yours sounds a little intimidating. Like a superhero-movie villain. You should write a book about her.”

Mr. Parker laughed. “Now that’s not a bad idea.”

I winked. “I expect royalties if you follow through with that.”

“Consider it done.”

I pulled up his account on the computer and began the process of checking him out. “Where do you usually find inspiration for your love stories? I’ve always wondered.”

He shrugged and leaned against my desk. “I suppose I write about what I dream of having one day.”

A pang of sadness hit me and I looked up at him. For someone who was such a romantic at heart, it surprised me that he still hadn’t found the love he wrote about.

Mr. Parker gave me a knowing smile. “I know my time is coming. Besides, the best women are worth waiting for, right?”

“Or writing about until they come around,” I added.

“Indeed.”