“Fine. You’re overreacting, but fine.”
His brother hung up. Overreacting? Not even close. He just hoped this job wouldn’t be the end of all of them. He had no intention of seeing the inside of a jail cell. Not now. Not ever.
CHAPTER THREE
“You can leave the tray right there,” Kathleen said, pointing to the dining table.
“Of course, Signora,” the waiter responded with a heavy Italian accent. He dug out a tablecloth and proceeded to set up the table for her.
Kathleen did her best not to sigh. She wasn’t comfortable with a room service waiter setting a dining table for her. Hell, the table was the least of her worries. She was more uncomfortable staying in the massive two-story suite with a bar and dining area. The only places she’d ever stayed before Jameson and Spencer had gotten her out of trouble were three-star motels at best, and they certainly hadn’t come with a dining table or a view of a lake like the one in front of her.
But since she’d been back in her brother’s life, it was first class all the way. She’d always dreamed of being wealthy, of not worrying about money, but reality wasn’t anything like she’d thought. Not that it was her money. It was her brother’s. Another thing that made her uncomfortable. Another thing that wasn’t hers. Her entire life felt like it had been dictated by others. She heaved a resigned breath.
“Is there anything else I can get for you, Signora?” the young waiter asked with a seriousness that made her want to laugh. “Shall I pour your coffee?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No, I’m fine. Thank you.”
He produced the bill in a discreet leather container, and she signed the bottom, including a big tip. She knew what it was like to be in the service industry. She’d had all kinds of jobs when she’d been in the WitSec program.
“Thank you,” she said, handing him the check holder and closing the door after him.
Breathing out a sigh of relief, she went back across the living room and sat down at the dining table. Pouring herself a cup of coffee, she grinned. The suite was perfection, as it always was at any of Jamie’s hotels. The living area was done in luxurious fabrics. Light neutrals with pops of color. The carpets were thick and soft under her feet. The floor-to-ceiling windows framed a view of mountains that seemed to tumble down into the lake.
Yes, life was good, she reminded herself, shaking off her previous melancholy. She was eternally grateful to Jamie, and she was determined to honor him by enjoying herself. That’s what he kept telling her. She needed to enjoy herself more.Get out there and live, Kathleen. Make up for lost time.She could still hear his voice ringing in her ears. That’s what this trip was all about. Having fun.
Sipping the rich, dark coffee, she mused about how she’d almost gotten away with being discreet last night at check-in. At the front desk she’d requested a room. Any room. She didn’t tell them who she was, or that her brother was the owner of the Jasmine Door hotel chain. They’d given her a room, and it wasn’t until a supervisor happened by when the young desk clerk had her passport open that she’d been discovered.
Then it was a flurry of activity and apologies. She’d tried to brush it off and say the room she’d been assigned was fine, butthey wouldn’t have it. Nor could she blame them. Jamie would kill them if they didn’t give her the best room. She’d almost gotten away with flying under the radar. Ah, well, maybe next time.
Of course, she could solve the whole problem by staying at another hotel but where was the fun in that? Besides, she didn’t want to hear it from her brother if he found out she’d used someone else’s hotel. He’d go ballistic.
She lifted the lid off her breakfast and smiled once again. Not only had she ordered eggs and bacon, but also a bunch of pastries. The indulgence was not at all her style, but coming here felt more like a vacation than going to Paris, and she was truly excited to get out and explore. She’d even booked a boat tour of the lake for later in the day. Taking a bite of one pastry, she let out a little contented sigh. Yes, this was going to be fun, even if she had to do all of her exploring on her own.
Kathleen had spent the morning wandering through the local museums, losing herself in centuries-old paintings and quiet, echoing halls. Now, with the sun warming her shoulders, she thought she’d do a little shopping.
The joy she felt as she strolled through the narrow streets was new to her, bubbling up like champagne. Everybody raved about Paris, and she’d gone a few times, but it had never worked its magic on her. Paris felt too loud, too crowded… Too much. Maybe big cities just weren’t her thing.
But this? This was different.
Lake Lugano had a pulse all its own, quieter, softer. The cobblestones under her sandals were warm from the sun, andthe air carried the faint floral scent, as well as the aroma of baking bread from a nearby café. Bells chimed faintly in the distance, mingling with the murmur of voices spilling out of shops and trattorias.
She’d had lunch at a lovely little café earlier—the kind of place tucked into a corner like a secret, where the tables were dressed with faded linens and mismatched wine glasses, and utterly delightful. The food had been simple but divine, the pasta handmade and silky, the sauce rich and full of flavor. The waiters had been charming and patient, indulging her as she’d stumbled through a few Italian phrases. They’d smiled warmly, even encouraged her despite her horrendous accent, which had made her laugh at herself.
Switzerland, or at least this Italian pocket of it, was definitely more her speed.
She’d visited Milan once. Everyone claimed it was the fashion capital of the world, and they weren’t wrong. Shopping there had been an experience, sleek and curated and expensive. But Milan had still been a city, buzzing with traffic and tourists, whereas this was something else entirely.
Here, Lake Lugano sprawled at the heart of it all, glassy and blue-green, framed by jagged mountains that seemed to rise straight out of the water. It was breathtaking, almost otherworldly.
With a smile lingering on her lips, Kathleen entered a designer dress shop. Cool air brushed against her skin, carrying the subtle perfume of leather and silk. The sales clerk behind the counter glanced up, her expression practiced but pleasant.
“Hello,” the woman said smoothly, switching to English without hesitation. “May I help you?”
“Hello,” Kathleen replied. “I’m not sure yet. I think I’ll just take a quick look around.”
The shop girl nodded, perfectly polite. “Of course. Let me know if you need any help.”
Kathleen smiled back and began to wander through the racks. The fabrics were soft under her fingertips, cool linen and buttery leather, but as she moved from one display to the next, she realized the selections were nearly identical to every other designer store she’d seen. Beige. Cream. Taupe. Safe, neutral shades that blended together into nothing memorable.
