Chapter 3 "Do you hear that?" Chester holds up a crooked index finger, aimed at the floor-to-ceiling aquarium in Opal Reef. I pause and listen intently as a cluster of tropical fish glides past. "That weird whirring?" It fades in and out, a repetitive sound. "Ray said it wasn't doin' that yesterday during his daily inspection, and it's getting louder by the hour. Staff noticed it this morning." The facilities manager frowns at the tank. Back in his day, I'll bet Chester was a sturdy guy, but his cheeks have hollowed with age, and his lanky arms are more bone than muscle. "That there could be a big problem." I imagine every problem with this enormous fish tank is a big problem. It might rank up there with the most expensive feature in this entire hotel. "What does that mean?" "Don't know yet. Ray checked for clogs in the filtration systems and didn't find any, so he's pretty sure it has to be a faulty part, but he needs the manufacturing company to confirm. They're sending someone in tomorrow. Then we may need parts." "How long will that take?" Chester shrugs. "They come from overseas." "You're fucking kidding me right now." "Wish I was." I shake my head. "Why does it seem like every system we have in this hotel is giving up on us before we've even opened?" First the sprinklers, now this? A second shrug. "I worked at the Aspen Wolf when it opened after the remodel, and I remember three hot-water tanks blowin' the hell up one morning. Not the first time that's happened either." "Something to look forward to is what you're telling me?" I mutter. "Let's hope we're in the clear." He reaches out to knock on a wooden wall panel. Potential hot-water issues are not our concern now, though. "We can't have this aquarium going down on us, this week of all weeks." Belinda expects our mermaids to make the front cover of every major travel magazine. He holds up his hands in surrender. "I know, boss. We're doing everything we can. Just thought you should be in the know, in case it outright quits on us before we get it fixed." "And what happens if it quits? I mean, what about all these fish? And can the entertainers still use it?" He scratches the top of his thinning hair. "We need the system to clean the water, or it'll get funky real quick. How quick? I'm not an expert on giant fish tanks, but I can't imagine any of those girls will want to get in murky water. Pictures probably wouldn't look ideal either." He cringes at the thought. "Hopefully, it doesn't get to that, and I'm on it." I sigh. "Thanks. I appreciate it." His phone chirps, and he scans it. And curses. "That's because you idiots connected the kegs wrong." My eyebrows arch in question. "Problem?" "Just foamy beer. Better go deal with that." "Better you than me." I think I'm beginning to see how this director thing works-these guys do all the problem-solving and running around and only loop me in when there's something they can't solve without it costing, in which case I get to take the heat from the higher-ups. Commotion sounds from the kitchen, and a moment later, a man dressed in a white chef's uniform plows through the swinging door, his hand wrapped in a tea towel, his face pinched with pain. "That can't be good," Chester declares as a petite woman in a peach-colored manager's uniform chases him out Opal Reef's doors. "No, but that's Lena's problem." I have enough to worry about, and it's not even noon. I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to be in a meeting somewhere. "Call this tank manufacturer back and get someone here today. After hours if they have to. Drag them out of a hospital bed, I don't care. A system like this going down on our opening week? Unacceptable. They should be jumping through hoops to please us." "Will do, boss." I grit my teeth. "Call me Ronan." I don't need anyone kissing my ass. He salutes me and takes off. With one last look at the enormous tank, I head back to my office, my mood growing more acerbic by the hour. Britt: Do you have featherless pillows? Define featherless I'm not kidding! I have allergies, remember? You're all good. No feathers. Okay ... I'm so excited. See you soon. I set my phone down. My baby sister and I have always been close, and I don't mind admitting that I've missed her. Still, I wonder if inviting her this weekend of all weekends was the smartest move. I won't have time for her. "Fourteen stitches," Lena confirms, reading a text from her phone before leaning back in the plush armchair, the oversized umbrella above our table providing shade against the sweltering afternoon sun. "And he's lost part of his finger." "We haven't even opened our doors yet," Belinda muses, setting her fork on her plate to mark her salmon salad finished. The server hovering over us like a seagull swoops in to collect. "I thought chefs were trained to not maim themselves." Lena snorts. I unfasten a button at my shirt collar, wishing I'd chosen a golf shirt. I wasn't expecting an afternoon meeting at Seraphina's. I'll admit, the view over the gulf is a million times nicer than staring at the frosted glass walls of the meeting room, but we're on hour two of comparing notes about all the ways we're still not ready for guests, and I'm minutes away from stripping down and diving into the pool on the other side of the privacy wall. "Does this mean no dinner party tomorrow night, then?" I was looking forward to it because Abbi will be there, but now I'd rather eat a bag of tacks than be around her husband. "You're kidding, right?" Belinda counters. "We have an entire kitchen of chefs. Besides, he's the master chef. You don't need a finger to give orders." "Good to know everyone has their priorities straight," I say under my breath. "Is that dinner mandatory?" Lena asks, her tone reluctant. "Is it mandatory that you accept an invitation from the CEO of Wolf Hotels?" Belinda arches an eyebrow. "I'm going to pretend you didn't ask me that." Lena's shoulders sink. "That's not ... I mean, who else is going to be there?" "Your boss and his wife, which should be enough," Belinda begins with forced patience. "Henry wants to celebrate the opening of the hotel. Besides, it's a good trial run for the servers in a less stressful environment." "Serving Wolf is supposed to be less stressful?" Ten bucks says they don't get through the night without another blood-letting injury. Belinda's lips purse. "It's a more casual atmosphere. His people will be there. Preston and Merrick, for one. You remember them from the wedding, Ronan?" "How could I forget?" They were both groomsmen. Two richer-than-thou bastards-one a pompous hedge fund executive from England, and the other one a guy who runs a hotel in Vegas and may or may not be tied to a crime family. The whispers are loud but inconclusive. I got along well enough with them regardless, so I guess it's not the end of the world. "And, of course, Margo," Belinda continues. I stifle my inward groan. That changes things. Wherever that woman goes, chaos and debauchery follow. "Are we positive this dinner is mandatory?" I echo Lena's question. "Yes." Belinda's voice is laced with annoyance. "You can bring your sidekick if it makes you feel better. Gary is coming, right?" She stares expectantly at Lena. "Yes, though Daniel has a soccer game that one of us should be at." Lena studies her fingernails while her passive-aggressiveness seeps into the conversation. Belinda's phone rings. "I need to take this." She smoothly vacates her chair as she answers, leaving Lena and me alone with our tablets and our thoughts. I check my watch. It's almost three. What's going on with the mermaid tank? And have they figured out the sprinkler situation yet? I punch out quick messages to Chester and Dorian, checking in. What I really want to do is get the hell out of here and go find Sloane. It's been twenty-four hours since I've seen her, and I think I'm suffering from withdrawal. But what the fuck do I say to her? No, you've got me all wrong. I'm not a fuckboy, I promise. And now, there's this whole eminent domain bullshit that I have to either play dumb about or tell her, in which case I can basically kiss my job goodbye. I feel Lena watching me. "So ... Daniel's your kid?" I knew she was married on account of the flashy ring, but I know nothing else about my counterpart. Maybe I should attempt to be friendly. And, hey, at least then I can honestly say I haven't slept with every woman in my life. "Yes. My twelve-year-old son, who is very angry about his mother taking this job and forcing him to move away from his friends. You'd think the beach would be more enticing than Chicago's suburbs, but apparently not." Her smile is tight. "That's where you're from?" "Charlotte, originally, but we were living in Chicago for the past decade." She smooths a hand through her auburn hair. I note the faintest hint of gray at her temple. "It's all Daniel knows." "I'm lucky, I guess. I didn't have to think about a wife or kids when Wolf told me I had three days to get here." No one to pack up except for a giant man-child. Speaking of, I should check in to see how Connor's knee is doing. Though I'm sure Katie and Rachel are taking really good care of him. Lena's golden-brown eyes narrow as she regards me. "Something on your mind?" I ask guardedly. "I still can't figure out how you ended up in this job." "Besides my sharp intellect and vast experience?" I quip. Me, an outdoor crew guy with no real management experience. Everyone knows it. It's a fair statement, and yet I can't tell if she's genuinely curious or if it's an attempt to insult me. "I must have skills you haven't seen yet." I wink. The simple move seems to startle her. She clears her throat while refocusing on her tablet, her cheeks pinking. I smile. Lena may be as uptight as a bridezilla working on a seating chart, but I could bend her my way if I wanted to. Thankfully for both of us, I don't. She's attractive, but there's nothing appealing about wrecking a marriage. As soon as that ring is on a woman's finger, a giant "do not enter" sign appears. I won't let myself so much as imagine what they look like naked. Except for Abbi, of course, but that's different. Belinda returns then, saving us from our awkward conversation. "Okay, I think we've covered off everything we need to for today, unless there are any other pressing matters?" "Besides my housekeeping supervisor stumbling upon two staff members having intercourse on a freshly made bed?" Lena frowns at her screen. "Connie is asking how we would like to proceed." "What do you think, Ronan?" The corners of Belinda's painted lips crook upward with a secretive smirk. "Should staff caught in compromising positions be terminated?" If so, then I sure as hell wouldn't be here, and neither would Belinda. I haul my sweaty body out of the seat, dying for air-conditioning. "I say let them fuck and get it out of their system, but ask Mike. He's the HR manager, and I've already fired someone today." I feel bad for that girl who fell for Sloane's ex and lost a promising career. If I ever see Cody again ... My fist clenches with the thought. Belinda's gaze rakes over my chest, settling on where my collar sits unbuttoned. "Minnie sent you both decks on every person invited to the media open. Spend the next thirty-six hours memorizing them, especially those whom you have scheduled time with. I expect you to know the names of every person before they introduce themselves to you." I plaster on a wide, fake smile. "You got it." Fat chance. "Favorite flower is the daffodil. She has two Shih Tzus named Rocky and Noodles," I read out loud, scrolling through Shelby Singer's bio from the comfort of my desk. "Are you kidding me? This has to be illegal." There's a dossier on every journalist, politician, and corporate bigwig coming, and they include far more than their credentials and a professional photograph. This one in particular is a fifty-three-year-old congress member in a pantsuit with two American flags in the background. Archie lounges in the chair across from me, squeezing an orange stress ball that matches the color of his hair. "It's all public stuff. The GMs make us do it for media days. It's helpful, according to Belinda." "It's helpful that I know Shelby enjoys competitive duck herding in her spare time? What the fuck even is that?" He grins. "It's when you guide ducks through obstacles using dogs." "Why would someone do that?" "Sport? I don't know. I had to look that up." "And why do I need to know all this? Am I supposed to pretend that I, too, herd ducks through obstacles on my days off so I can bond with Shelby Singer?" I pat my chest for embellishment. Archie's grin widens. "I don't know, man. I just do what I'm told. Belinda scares me." "You and me both." I flip through the other bookmarked dossiers. "The ones with the stars are all the people I have one-on-one meetings with?" Three travel magazine journalists, two news reporters, two politicians, and three company CEOs. "Yeah, but Belinda wants you to read through all of them." "Not just read. Memorize." I flip through the starred ones. "All of my meetings are with women," I note. "And all of Lena and Belinda's meetings are with men." Doubt that's a coincidence. "Fucking diabolical." How exactly does Wolf want me to impress these VIPs? Because there were rumors aplenty about his relationship with one of these media open travel journalists at the Alaska location. In fact, that woman played a big part in Henry and Abbi's breakup. I guess I have her to thank because Abbi would never have given me the time of day otherwise. My phone chirps with an incoming text, and I dive for it, holding my breath against hope that I'll see Sloane's name. Tasha: So ... Two nights seems like such a short trip. Any chance you have an extra room at your place in case I wanted to stay until Sunday? Fuck me, I should have seen this coming. Connor did, back in Miami. Can't wait for him to grind me about it. I guess it's fine, though. The house is big, and Tasha is not the woman I'm pining over anymore. Plus, I have a door lock on my bedroom. Yeah, lots of room. I won't be around much but Britt and Dani are staying there too. They can hang out together if they want. I sure as hell don't have time to entertain anyone. With that taken care of, I flip over to my calendar to see where all these kiss-ass meet-and-greets fit in. "You have me booked for two breakfasts on Friday." "Order something light?" Archie counters. I frown. "And three coffee meetings at the Coral Cafe on Wednesday afternoon." The hotel's coffee shop is quaint but small. "You love coffee." "Yeah, but are you trying to kill me with caffeine?" He tosses his stress ball in the air and catches it. "Drink decaf." "Screw that." I note 7:00 a.m. tee-off times on Wednesday and Thursday. Worse, with Henry on my team. As if I want to spend all morning with him. "What's Axis Core?" Because we're golfing with a pair from there the first day. Thursday is a media open tournament that runs all day. "A global consulting firm. They hold their yearly meetings at Wolf locations." Two rich assholes who probably golf seven days a week while conducting business. Can I get out of that? Highly unlikely. "Do you know anything about golf?" "I can hold my own." The way he says it means he knows his stuff. "Okay, good. You're gonna be my caddy. Memorize whatever's in these two dossiers. Also, I need you to book me with the golf pro tomorrow morning." Maybe that'll give me a fighting chance of not embarrassing myself. Archie stiffens, his demeanor shifting to business in an instant. "Any time in particular?" "The earlier, the better." Less chance of my session getting derailed by problems. A knock sounds on my office door. "Come in," I holler. Dorian and his mustache appear. "Sprinklers are all sorted. Our guys had to dig up some lines, but⁠-" "Perfect," I cut him off. I really don't care how they fixed it, just as long as it's one less problem to end up on my plate. "Anything else to worry about?" "For you? No. Got the replacement beach equipment in today, finally, for everything that arrived busted. I sent you the labor report for the month, plus the updated projections for next month, as well as the equipment list. Ten percent higher than the budget. I prioritized what I think is necessary." I sigh. Can't wait to be lectured by Henry's CFO for overspending. "Thanks, Dorian." With a wave, he ducks out. Now is the perfect time to escape, before anyone shows up to drop a new problem in my lap. I quickly collect my laptop and tablet. "I'm going home to digest all of this in peace. Don't call me unless it's an emergency." "Sounds good. I'll get you in with the pro first thing and update your calendar." "Good man." I rush out before he's even out of his seat. It's all a ruse, of course. Home is not where I'm aiming to go. My pulse races as I pull up next to the old blue Cherokee wearing a Sea Witch bumper sticker. That has to be Sloane's, which means she's here. Thankfully, it doesn't look like Frank or anyone else is. The row of colorful trailers sits quietly between the line of trees, no vehicle to be seen. The hens greet me as I step out of my car, flocking to my shoes as if I've dropped kernels for them. When they realize I've come empty-handed, they strut away, clucking. "Hey, Ralph," I call out to the hulkish rooster loitering a few feet away. I haven't seen a lot of roosters in my day, but I didn't know they came that big. "Don't shit on my hood this time, okay?" It took two rounds in the car wash to get off. He spreads his tail feathers as if in answer. "Yeah, you're definitely gonna shit on my car again," I mutter, dismissing him as I make my way past the fenced-off garden. A set of gloves rests next to a pitchfork and a pile of weeds. A basket nearby is filled with lettuce, cherry tomatoes, and radishes. It looks like someone gave up harvesting halfway through. I take a moment to absorb the entire idyllic view. Even though the hotel is right next door, you'd never know it from this spot. It's a kitschy little oasis of brambly trees and colorful buildings, personality in every corner you look. And Henry wants to pave over this. Tear it down and turn it into a road. It's wrong on every level. I climb the quaint little teal-blue beach house's porch steps, hit with a flash of the last time I was here, armed with my laptop and good intentions. I can't believe how quickly things between me and Sloane got out of control. I wouldn't change a thing about that day, though. Scratch that-I would change one thing: I would have made sure it lasted a hell of a lot longer. The glass pane rattles under my knock, and then I wait. And wait. I knock again, stealing a glance through the window. Movement catches my eye. It's not inside the house, but through the back doors. A figure in a hot pink string bikini strolls up the beach, a towel wrapped around her shoulders, her wet hair pushed back off her forehead. My pulse races at the sight of Sloane, even as I chastise myself for not thinking through this impulsive visit. What am I supposed to say to her, now that there's this giant secret hanging in the air, these plans that are going to upend her entire life that I know about. That I can't tell her about without risking my career and her wrath. Sloane veers to her left. I take quick steps down the porch and to the far side of the house, following the stone path around to meet her. In "A Relationship Kept in The Dark" by CrushReel, the storyline unfolds as renowned photographer Jane finds herself drawn to the charismatic rookie model, Hector. Little does she know that Hector harbors a secret—he is actually the heir to a powerful business empire. As their romance blossoms, Hector grapples with concealing his true identity to capture Jane's heart. However, their love story takes a tumultuous turn when jealousy rears its ugly head, threatening to unravel the delicate balance they've built. 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