Memories of last night’s events slam into me with the force of a speeding bullet. My eyes go wide as saucers as mortification boils me alive.
I slap my hands over my face, which only intensifies the headache pulsing at my temples.
More flashbacks from last night assault me, triggering an urge to die on the spot. I all but threw myself at Kellin.
Please no.
When the shame spiral eases enough for me to sit up, I scan the bedroom. Some of the tension releases from my shoulders once I realize I’m alone.
Yesterday’s clothes hang in the bathroom. Even my panties—kill me now. I reach for my dress, grimacing when my fingers brush the damp, sandy fabric. I can’t risk running into an employee while doing the walk of shame. Little would they know that the only real shame from last night involved my unreciprocated attempts at seducing a guest.
I need to call for backup.
I rifle around Kellin’s suite until I find my purse. Once I retrieve my phone from its depths, I type an emergency message to Lenora.
L, please go to my suite, grab me some clothes, and leave them outside Room 704.
That’s Kellin’s room!Lenora practically squeals through the text.On my way. I’ll drop them off, but I expect every single detail later.
I roll my eyes and pace the floor. The minutes that tick past while I wait for the clothes are the longest of my life. Lenora is quick, but somehow in that short timeframe, I manage to relive every major mistake of my life leading up to and including last night.
After Lenora drops off my outfit, I rush to get dressed.
There’s no telling what kind of mayhem awaits me at work, and I’m already starting off on the wrong foot.
Once I’m fresh, clean, and fully dressed, I attack my hair, work it into a messy bun, and stuff the proof of last night’s humiliation in the bag to drop off at the laundry later.
My heart surges into my throat when I thrust the door open and find Kellin on the other side.
“On your way out?” In his hands, he holds a steaming cup and a breakfast sandwich.
I pray he doesn’t hear my gurgling stomach.
Based on his smile, though, he definitely did.
“Sounds like I got here just in the nick of time.”
He offers me the coffee and food. I’m late, embarrassed, and starving, so I don’t protest. I snag both, mumble a thank you, and bolt as fast as I can.
By the time I reach my office, I’ve guzzled the entire cup of coffee and scarfed down an absolutely delicious bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich. I’m halfway to my chair when my phone dings in my pocket.
I check the screen, expecting the day’s first catastrophe.
Instead, I see a text from Kellin.
Don’t forget…you owe me a rain check.
A flush of heat envelops me, and I can’t hold back the smile that spreads across my face.
Chapter 17
Kellin
South of Santa Monica and Venice Beach, Los Angeles gets gritty and industrial. Fast.
Today, I head to a warehouse that Declan owns. According to the report Rory sent through, the Port Kings sometimes use this place to stash “prisoners,” which means there’s a chance, however slight, that Doyle’s here.
At least, that’s what I tell myself as I jog around the back, sticking to shade created by the overhanging tin sheets as much as possible.
