Her Guilty Secret

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by Clare Connelly


  I’ve been so goddamn angry at myself for it. It’s been a rough four weeks dealing with my grief and discovering the extent of the company’s problems and I haven’t hidden my irritation well. I’ve snapped at staff, been abrupt to the point of rudeness with the board and almost sacked a decade-long employee for daring to question me.

  I’m not proud of my behaviour, so when Kevin tactfully suggested I take a daily dose of happy pills—translated to snap the fuck out of it—I knew what I had to do. Shelve my guilt at being a poor excuse for a grandson. Make up for it by focussing on restoring the hotel chain to its former glory. Then appoint a great manager and hit the road like I always do.

  ‘I’d rather meet the PR rep on my own, then when her boss arrives maybe the four of us can get together later tomorrow?’

  ‘Fine by me.’ Kevin tosses back the rest of his drink. ‘Anything else you need?’

  ‘Kev, you’re my PA, not my butler.’ I point at the door. ‘The night is young. Go mingle.’

  ‘I could say the same about you.’ He hesitates, a wry grin creasing his face. ‘Maybe that’s why you’re so grumpy. When’s the last time you got laid?’

  Too long ago to count, not that I’m interested. I’ve got too much to focus on. Like ensuring I pay back all Pa gave me, even if he won’t know it. But I’ll know, deep down in that place no one has ever touched, and for now that will have to be enough.

  Besides, I don’t date. I seek pleasure on occasion but most women shy away from me. They take one look at my permanent glower and either run or think they can redeem me. I’m not amenable to the latter.

  ‘Hey.’ Kevin snaps his fingers in my face. ‘If it takes you this long to figure out how long since you’ve done the deed, it’s been too long.’

  ‘Done the deed? What are you, thirteen?’

  ‘Fifty this year and proud of it.’ He wiggles the third finger on his left hand. ‘And this gold band says I can get laid whenever and however many times I want.’

  ‘It also says your wife carries your balls in her handbag.’

  Kevin guffaws and I find myself laughing along with him. I rarely laugh. The occasional chuckle, maybe. But the cities I live in, surrounded by the poor and vulnerable, don’t make me feel like smiling much, let alone laughing.

  Pa understood my need to help kids like me. He recognised my restlessness after I’d completed my economics degree and worked alongside him in the hotel business for two years. He’d been grooming me and I’d done my damnedest to make him proud. But it hadn’t been enough and he was man enough to let me go. Sure, I’d accepted a token position. Hotel Quality Control. Basically, an invented position akin to a mystery shopper where I’d travelled the world, checking into the company’s hotels, and reporting back on everything from cleanliness of the linen to room service.

  Pa swore my feedback mattered, that he instigated measures to improve hotel failings. I think I could’ve written my monthly reports in Mandarin and he wouldn’t have noticed, that’s how much faith he had in me.

  I owe him. Big time.

  ‘On that note, I better go find my balls.’ Kevin stands and stretches his arms overhead. ‘Let me know how the meeting in the morning goes.’

  ‘Shall do.’ I salute, glad that I have a guy like Kevin to lead me through the maze.

  Being Pa’s assistant for thirty years ensures he knows everything there is to know. He’s invaluable to me. More like a mate, even though he’s old enough to be my dad.

  Considering the mammoth task of getting this resort back on track, I’m glad he’s giving me a hand.

  I need all the help I can get.

  Copyright © 2019 by Nicola Marsh

  ISBN-13: 9781488048487

  Her Guilty Secret

  Copyright © 2019 by Clare Connelly

  All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 22 Adelaide St. West, 40th Floor, Toronto, Ontario M5H 4E3, Canada.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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