Suite Hearts (Hot Hotel Nights Book 1) Page 22

  "He's the head of accounting, isn’t he?" I asked, remembering that from something I'd overheard in the hotel.

  "Yeah." Callum nodded. "Head of sleaze, I call him. But don’t you dare tell anyone I said that."

  My brows furrowed as a realization struck me like a thunderbolt. Tristan told me that it wasn’t easy for accountants to skim money off the top of businesses they worked for, regardless of how easy movies and TV shows made it look. But if someone was going to do it, who would find it easiest to pull off?

  The fucking head of accounting, that’s who.

  I laughed and clapped Callum on the back. "Thanks, man."

  "Huh?" He gave me a confused look as I made my way to the hallway which led out of the accounting offices. "What about your internship?"

  “Doesn’t matter. And hey," I called back at him. “Ask her out."

  Callum laughed and shook his head. "You know, maybe I will," he said with a grin.

  I gave him a wave, and then I turned around and strode down the hallway. There was only one more person I needed to find now.

  But he wasn’t going to be easy to talk to.

  I was nervous as fuck.

  I’d had to sit in the hall and wait three long hours for Vincent Cadwell to return to the hotel from wherever he’d been half the day (thank god for smart phone games, or I would’ve died of boredom). When I got up and approached him, I was surprised he didn’t immediately call security and have me thrown out, but here we were.

  Now, I was sitting across from him in his opulent office, and his eyes were heavy on mine. I’d just told him everything I thought I knew about what was going on in the accounting department of his hotel, and he hadn’t said a word. He’d simply glared at me the entire time.

  And he had every right to.

  "So, yes, that's about it," I finished, my throat feeling dry as hell. "Oh, one more thing."

  "And what might that be?" he asked coolly.

  "The guy who kinda helped me figure it out works in the accounting department," I said. "Callum Houston. Really nice guy, if you're ever looking to promote anyone."

  Vincent stared at me intently for several seconds. His face was still clouded, and I was convinced he was going to shoot me like a villain in a Bond movie.

  And then suddenly, he laughed. What the hell?

  “You’re really something, you know that?” he said, still chuckling and shaking his head. “Jesus…”

  Okay, he was definitely going to shoot me.

  He leaned forward, a frown quickly returning to his face. “You of all people, coming to my office after what you did and how you treated my daughter," he went on. "And telling me that one of my closest friends and colleagues is somehow embezzling money from right under our noses…”

  I looked down, certain he was about to tell me to go fuck myself with a pair of scissors.

  He nodded slowly instead. “It’s a brave thing to do,” he said. “Takes real balls, I’ll tell you that.”

  I looked up again. I had no idea what to say. “Uh…”

  “I’ve been worried about the hotel finances for a while. Francine seems to think it’s just the normal ebb and flow of business, but we haven’t reached projected revenues in over a year now. The quarterlies always fall short. Not so short that it causes anyone else concern, but still… short. It’s made me nervous.”

  “I see.”

  He sighed. “So despite who you are, Kaden, and what you’ve done… I’ll look into this right away. If you’re right, he will of course be dealt with."

  I breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “I’m glad to hear that,” I said, feeling my heartbeat slowly returning to normal. "Thanks for hearing me out instead of throwing me out. And again, I’m so sorry, Vincent... about everything."

  "It’s Mr. Cadwell to you," he replied, narrowing his eyes slightly.

  "Mr. Cadwell," I said. "Sorry, yes, of course."

  "Anyway, I appreciate you telling me,” he said. Then his face turned stony. “What I don't appreciate is you messing with my daughter and the reputation of my hotel.”

  I lowered my gaze again. “Sorry.”

  He shook his head slowly. “Francine always thought you looked familiar. She kept talking about it weeks ago, about how there was a bellboy who she swore she’d seen before. I thought she just had a silly little crush, to be honest.” He sniffed. “I had no idea she was right, and that we had in fact seen you before with your parents at some sort of business event. When you were much younger, of course. It was no wonder we didn’t recognize you immediately.”

  I sighed. "Look, Mr. Cadwell, I never meant to hurt your family," I said. "Never.”

  “But you did come to work here under a fake name to spy for those idiotic parents of yours, no?” he asked. “And I can presume you didn’t tell Peyton? I know what these articles are saying about her, but I know she didn’t get you the job and put you up to all of this. I haven’t actually spoken to her about it yet, because she’s gone away for a couple of days to sulk, but I just can’t believe she would do that. I can’t say I’m at all pleased with her for hooking up with a staff member and getting caught by the media, but aside from that, I know she didn’t know who you really were.”

  I nodded. “Yes. It was my parents. And yes, I lied. Peyton didn’t know who I was until recently.”

  His eyes widened a little. He was clearly surprised at my unreserved honesty. “Right. And during your spying here, you found something, of course. As we just discussed.”

  I nodded again. “Yes. But I was sure it had nothing to do with you or your wife. I did my best to convince my parents of that. And I certainly didn't leak those photos of your daughter and me."

  Vincent didn’t reply for what felt like an eternity.

  Finally, he sighed. "Somehow, I'm inclined to believe you, which might be incredibly stupid," he said. "But I'll take your word for it. Now, are we done here?"

  He made a move to stand up, and I swallowed heavily. "Just one more thing, Mr. Cadwell," I said.

  He sat back down. "Yes?" he said, his eyebrows lifting once again.

  "It's about Peyton," I said. "I know I lied to her. I know I hurt her. I know I’m a Pierce, and our families don’t exactly get along. But I intend on making things right between us, Mr. Cadwell."

  His eyes narrowed slightly. "I don't see how that will be possible," he replied, his tone clipped and cool again. "I know my daughter, and she doesn't forgive very easily. Neither do I, for that matter."

  "I'll do my best to convince her how sorry I am," I said. "And you and the rest of your family, too. No matter what it takes. I promise.”

  He sighed and stood up again. Then he took some papers off the desk and shuffled them in his hands. I got up too, simultaneously feeling a little petrified and a little brave.

  Finally, Vincent spoke up again, extending a hand to me as he did so. "Best of luck to you, Kaden," he said, giving me a crushingly-firm handshake. "You'll need it."

  I left Vincent Cadwell’s office feeling much better about myself.

  What I'd discovered wasn't going to magically fix everything I’d done and take back all the lies I told, but it sure as hell was going to help make me look like a better man in Peyton's eyes. Her parents, too. I'd fucked up, but I was more than ready to make amends and show her I was a decent guy.

  Maybe that would be enough to get a second chance.

  As I made my way downstairs, I saw Andreas standing off in the corner, looking at his phone. He didn't notice me, and a pang of guilt went through me as I remembered that text he'd ignored. I'd really gotten on everyone's bad side, including him, and it sucked. I actually really liked the dude. We always got along well, from the very start.

  I decided to go over and say hi; try to make amends.

  He was so engrossed with his phone that he didn’t see or hear me approach, and when I tapped him on the shoulder, he jumped and dropped the phone. “Jesus, man!” he said.

  "Fuck, sorry," I replied, scrambling to pi
ck it up for him. So much for my plan of making it up to everyone involved in this royal mess...

  As I picked up his phone, I glanced at the screen, seeing his camera reel open on it. He had a shit-ton of photos on there, and the ones he’d been looking at were of Peyton in the club at the staff party the other night.

  "Here you go," I said, handing him the phone back. I arched a brow. "You better not let Peyton see those. You know how she hates people taking candid pics of her. Reminds her of the stupid paparazzi guys who follow her around.”

  “Yeah. Right,” he muttered. He grabbed the phone out of my hand, refusing to meet my eyes. I really hated myself then, hated that I'd fucked up every relationship I'd made at the Mirabella.

  I suddenly noticed that Andreas was really pale, almost twitchy with nervousness.

  This wasn’t about me and my betrayal. There was something else going on with him. Maybe he was worried about what I just said about the pictures on his phone? After all, he’d always been obsessed with the idea of being friends with Peyton, and he certainly didn’t want to get on her bad side.

  "Hey, it's okay. They’re just photos. She probably wouldn’t mind that much," I said with a grin, clapping him on the back. "I was just saying.”

  “I just… I…uh…” He was stuttering so much I thought he was about to have a panic attack or something.

  I furrowed my brows. “What’s wrong? I mean, come on, man. I’m not the jealous type. I’m not gonna beat you up for having photos of her. I know you’re friends with her, and we were all at that party,” I said with a wry grin. Then I sighed. “Besides, it’s not like I’m with her anymore, anyway.”

  “Oh. Right.” Andreas looked like he was calming down a little now, but then something occurred to me.

  He was being way too weird about this. It was one thing to take a few photos at a party and have a quick glance through them later on, but he’d practically had a heart attack when he realized that I’d seen what he was looking at. That wasn’t normal. And I hadn’t seen anyone else who was at the party in those photos.

  It was all Peyton.

  I looked into his eyes, and somehow, I just knew what was really going on. It was suddenly so obvious to me.

  “You take a lot of photos of Peyton?” I asked, trying to sound casual. There was still a chance that I was wrong.

  But Andreas lowered his gaze, and I knew I was right.

  “Holy shit. It was you, wasn’t it, man?” I said, narrowing my eyes. “You took those other photos of us together. The ones the gossip sites have right now.”

  It made sense. Those photos were taken in the employee wardrobe, which Andreas had access to. And he was there that day when the leaked photos were taken. He could’ve followed Peyton and me in there; could’ve seen us together.

  "I…." He gulped heavily, and that was enough to confirm my suspicion.

  I grabbed him by his shirt and slammed his back into the wall. He breathed heavily, coughing and sputtering as I forced him up against the wall.

  "What the fuck were you thinking, man?" I growled. "How could you do this?"

  He was looking redder by the second, and I loosened my grip a little so I didn’t straight up kill him. I couldn't believe it. I knew Andreas was obsessed with Peyton, but I didn’t know he was a fucking stalker. I thought he just wanted to be her friend because he idolized her so much.

  "I'm sorry," he muttered. "I'm sorry, okay?"

  "Sorry isn't good enough!" I said, slamming him against the wall again. "Why the fuck would you do this, Andreas? How could you do this to Peyton? And how could you let the media get ahold of those photos you took? You’ve seen what those articles are saying about her! And me, too, but fuck….”

  He didn't say a word.

  "You better fucking tell me what’s going on," I said in a warning tone.

  I noticed people staring at us, so I pulled him into a hallway where we could be alone. It was only a matter of minutes before I got myself permanently kicked out of the Mirabella, but I needed to get to the bottom of this fucking mess.

  "I’m sorry," he finally repeated, his eyes widening with fear when he saw my hands curling into fists.

  "For what?" I snapped. "Just say it. You’re stalking her, right?”

  He took a heavy, shaky breath, and I made myself loosen my grip again even though I wanted to strangle the guy.

  "I’m not a stalker. I was… I was hired," he said reluctantly.

  My eyebrows shot up. “Hired?”

  "Yeah. To spy on Peyton."

  "What the fuck?" I said. "Hired by who?"

  "I don't know!" he replied. "I don't know, man, I just got the money for the pictures I took.”

  I let go of him, feeling so disgusted by his mere existence that I didn’t want to touch him for a second longer.

  "So did you fucking leak those photos?" I asked. He must've known I'd knock his teeth out if he answered in the affirmative, because his whole body shook along with his head. "You better tell me the truth, you slimy little jerk, because I'm going to find out one way or another, and if I catch you in a lie..."

  I didn’t finish the sentence. I didn’t need to.

  "No," Andreas said, vehemently shaking his head. "Of course I didn't leak them. I just emailed them to the person who hired me. I never knew this would happen."

  "Bullshit,” I said. "You must have known they’d use this against us!"

  "I'm sorry," he repeated for what seemed like the hundredth time, looking down.

  I was about to press him for more information, like the email address he’d sent the photos to (if that was even true), but my phone vibrated with a text in my pocket, and I pulled it out to check it just in case. I was so fucking sick of everything, but at the same time, I was worried something else would happen to mess up my life even further.

  My eyes locked in on the screen, and I read the text with wide eyes. Please come help. I don't feel good. I’m at Rosewood Boulevard. Club Zero.

  The message was from Peyton. She must have unblocked my number to send it.

  My blood froze in my veins as I stared at those words. Seconds ticked by slower than ever, and I felt panic and bile rising in my throat. Something was very, very wrong if Peyton was texting me like this. She was so mad at me the last time we'd spoken, and I knew she wouldn't just text me out of the blue unless it was an emergency that she thought only I could help with.

  "I have to go," I said, looking up only to find Andreas long gone. He must have sneaked away when I looked down at my phone. Fucking rat.

  My mouth was a thin line as I made my way out of the Mirabella. I was going to have to deal with him later.

  Right now, I had to help Peyton.

  23 Peyton

  My life was falling apart right in front of my eyes.

  With Serena unreachable and Bianca not somebody I wanted to speak to right now, given what I thought she’d done, I'd never felt more alone. I needed someone to talk to, somebody to comfort me and lie, tell me that it was going to be all right. But I had no one to go to, and I felt lonelier than ever. Most of my other friends were the fair-weather type. Not the close type who would actually listen to my problems.

  I briefly thought about going to Allegra, but then I remembered how bitchy she'd been the last time we interacted. I had no idea what had gotten into my sister, but the mere thought of confiding in her made me shiver.

  The only other option I could think of was to keep my feelings bottled up and deal with them another way, and over the years of being a socialite, I'd gotten better and better at shielding myself from reality and pretending life was just a never-ending carousel of drinks, designer handbags and must-have clothes.

  I could just go back to that lifestyle for a little while, couldn't I?

  I had no other options, and I needed an escape.

  So that’s exactly what I’d been doing over the last couple of days since I left the Mirabella—hanging out with acquaintances who I knew didn’t really care about me all that muc
h but always provided a good time anyway. I’d drink with them and act like nothing had even happened, like everything was peachy. And at night, I’d go home alone to the out-of-the-way vacation apartment I’d elected to stay at for now.

  I couldn’t go back to the Mirabella and face everyone. Not yet. And as long as I had my purse and credit card, I didn’t need to.

  Right now, I needed another distraction from the gossip site bullshit that was still making the rounds about me. My hands shook as I picked up my phone and fired off a text to one of my old friends, Blossom.

  Blossom Daugherty was the daughter of two famous Hollywood actors, and she acted like she was royalty—which, when you added up the number of Oscars shared between her parents, she basically was.

  We used to be good friends when I was younger, and my parents hated her. Blossom was infamous in the socialite world. She drank even though she was underage, and she partied every night. She took pictures for Instagram with a joint between her lips and flashed her boobs on her eighteenth birthday while passing the paparazzi. She was a bad girl through and through... and maybe she was exactly what I needed.

  I wanted to forget.

  And if the media was so intent on painting me as a whore and a traitor, maybe I should really give them something to talk about.

  I was feeling so down that the ping back from Blossom didn't even influence my mood. I read her message still feeling lethargic and sad.

  Yessss! I missed you, slut! See you at Zero - the club on Rosewood Boulevard ;) I’m already here. Dress up or don't come. Can’t wait! Xxx

  I sighed. Well, at least Blossom was excited about seeing me…

  I was dressed to the nines, and it seemed like the paparazzi were taking notice of it.

  As I made my way out of the cab on Rosewood Boulevard, cameras flashed in my face and people assaulted my personal space. They shouted and screamed as I removed my oversized tinted sunglasses, but I couldn't face them. I held my head high, and I refused to acknowledge the mob as I made my way into the club. I didn't want to deal with their poisonous bullshit. They'd done enough damage, so let them fucking talk if they wanted to. They'd already ruined my life… what more could they do?