Suite Hearts (Hot Hotel Nights Book 1)

by Caitlin Daire

  For me, it wasn't like that. The Mirabella was in a different league. My parents' hotel wasn't doing badly by any stretch of the imagination. We were booked solid for months. But the Mirabella was a landmark. It was the place the city was known for, the hotel that put my hometown on the map. But no matter how hard I tried to convince my parents, they didn't believe me when I said we couldn't reach for the stars. The only thing that could give the Pierce Resort that kind of status was time. And my parents were as impatient as they come.

  So I wasn't looking forward to our dinner, and as soon as I stepped through the front door of their hills mansion at seven, I regretted it.

  My parents were all over me in seconds, with Mom taking my jacket and Dad barking questions at me.

  "Would you calm down?" I said. "I worked a full shift today. I'm tired."

  "Remember why you're there, Kaden," Mom said softly as Dad glared at me. "Remember you have a job to do."

  "How could I forget?" I said bitterly. "You two keep reminding me every second of the day."

  "Why are you in such a bad mood?" Dad asked.

  I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose. "I'm just tired," I lied. "I'm sorry. Let's have some dinner. I didn't come here to pick a fight."

  We sat down at the table, and Mom brought over some food I was sure one of their maids had prepared. Mom was a hopeless cook, not that she'd tried to make anything recently. It seemed as if she'd pretty much accepted her role as a hotel manager and stopped giving a shit about any domestic activities. Good for her, though. If she didn't want to clean and cook, she definitely didn't have to. We had enough staff to take care of all that.

  "So, tell us," Mom began once we dug into the green bean casserole and loaded our plates with Shepherd's pie. "What's been going on at the Mirabella? Is it true what everyone’s saying? Is it really her?"

  I knew the question would come up. The tabloids had started reporting on the DeeDee/Allegra situation in an almost frenzied state, but I'd kept silent on the issue, telling my parents I'd explain everything when we saw each other. I guess that time had finally come.

  "They found Allegra, yes," I replied. My mom gasped, and I looked at my plate uncomfortably. Suddenly, dinner didn't look so appetizing.

  "The lost little girl? It was really her?" Dad asked.

  "Yes," I replied. "She was on my team when I started. She had this weird panic attack which they're now saying was a sort of flashback."

  “What’s happening with that, then?”

  "Looks like they’ve moved her into the Mirabella already," I said. "She's already got her stuff there, according to... erm, the people I work with."

  Almost got caught there. I couldn't risk my parents knowing I was getting along well with Peyton. They'd definitely try to use our connection to get information out of her, and it was the last thing I wanted.

  "Well, that’s not actually why we invited you to dinner," Dad said, clearing his throat awkwardly.

  I perked up. Maybe they were finally going to offer me a better job, something different than spying for their competitor.

  I'd let my parents down in a lot of ways since I was old enough to care. I knew they'd expected me to be a stand-up representative of their hotel, but when I was well into my teenage years, I went through a wild streak. Partying, drinking, going out every night of the week, the full shebang. I'd done it all and lived the life Peyton was struggling with now, although I was never famous like she was. It was different for guys, I guess.

  Every time I was with a different girl it felt like a new trophy, until it got to the point where all of it felt fucking fake, and I didn't know whether they dated me for money or the person I was.

  So I took a break from it. For almost two years, I'd stayed away from the party life, and six months ago, I even cut off my friends who were always encouraging me to do bad shit, including George, and unfortunately, also Tristan.

  Tristan had been my best friend leading up to that point, and I really couldn't blame him for being bitter about the way we'd left things. I'd never explained it to him—I pushed it to the side and told myself I'd do it someday. But that day never came, and now we were both angry and disappointed with our friendship shattered. I knew I had some fences to mend, but I wasn't ready for it just yet.

  "We called you because we wanted to discuss something else," Dad went on, and I snapped out of it.

  "Yes?" I asked expectantly. Finally. This was it. They'd say my fake life was over, I'd come out to Peyton before it was too late, and we could all move on with our lives.

  "It's about the Cadwells," Dad said. "We’ve heard some rumors that might help us.”

  “Rumors?”

  “Yes. From an ex-employee of the Mirabella.”

  “Right. And what are these rumors about?”

  “Tax evasion. We’ve heard that they're concealing profits at the Mirabella—falsifying records so it makes it look like they’re making less, and keeping the extras in secret offshore accounts. Nothing solid, of course, but that’s what a few people are whispering about after hearing what this guy had to say.”

  They both looked at me expectantly. The worst part about it was, I knew they might be right. I’d handed over some paperwork to them a few days ago, copies of records I’d gotten while I was snooping at the Mirabella. I was snooping around in the accounting offices, and I found a folder with some of the most recent financial year’s statements on a desk next to a shredder. Of course, I made copies and left the originals there. I wasn’t that bad of a spy.

  I’d noticed discrepancies myself when I went through those numbers and compared them to other official quarterly finance reports that I’d managed to copy and sneak out of the accounting offices on an earlier occasion, so I knew exactly what my parents were talking about. But I didn’t want to believe it. Sure, Peyton's dad seemed like a dick, but her mom was lovely, and I sincerely doubted either of them had been doing anything illegal. They simply didn’t need to. Things at the Mirabella were going so well.

  "I'm not sure that's true," I said coolly, feeling disappointed but trying not to show it. "Is there actually solid evidence in any of the files I brought over that it’s her parents doing it? You can't just go around accusing people of shit, you know."

  "Kaden," Mom said in a warning tone. "Don't curse at the table."

  "And remember whose side you're on in this,” Dad added. “If you can find solid evidence of this tax evasion while you work there, we’ll win this whole thing. That’s exactly why we sent you there in the first place—to find something like this and prove they did it.”

  I rolled my eyes. "There are no sides and no proof. And there’s nothing to win. You're making this a competition when it really doesn't have to be. Just accept that you're running two different hotels. Stop obsessing about the Mirabella! Honestly, I’m this fucking close to quitting."

  "Language!" Mom cut in, shaking her head in disappointment.

  "We do have proof that something is going on, thanks to all these documents you’ve given us," Dad said gleefully. "We've been comparing the files and going through the numbers for a few days now. There are more than a few glaring discrepancies, to the tune of eight million missing dollars in the last financial year. And who knows how much every other year previously? Someone’s pocketing that extra money….”

  He got up and brought over the folders, slamming them down on the table in front of me. "And frankly, Kaden," he went on. "I don't appreciate your attitude. You work for us. Or have you forgotten about everything we've done for you?"

  I returned his stare, even though it was making me uncomfortable. I wasn't going to back down, though. I stood by my words, even if they were the ones paying me for this. I honestly believed they were creating a stupid competition which didn't even matter in the end. Both the Pierce Resort and the Mirabella were doing well, and I didn't understand why they had to make trouble when there was no need for it.

  Sure, maybe there was money missing from the Mirabella, but that didn�
��t mean it was the Cadwells making it ‘disappear’ into a secret offshore account for purposes of evading taxes, or whatever other reason someone might steal money from their own business. There were other possibilities. Perhaps there were simply a few pages missing from the official financial records I’d copied compared with the seemingly dodgy file I found near the shredder. Or maybe the papers near the shredder were simply incorrect, hence they were going to be shredded and tossed out. That was an easy enough explanation, and no one had to be a criminal.

  As for the guy spouting off rumors… well, it was common for disgruntled ex-employees to try and start shit out of bitterness over being fired. That meant nothing.

  But if I quit entirely and stopped looking into this, then Mom and Dad would simply keep perpetuating these rumors about their rival, possibly leading to their downfall. I didn’t want to let that happen when they could very well be wrong. So for now, I had to stay at the Mirabella.

  "I'll look things over again," I replied with a sigh, taking the folders and pushing my chair back.

  "Your dinner will go cold," Mom said.

  "I’ve lost my appetite. I might just call it a night," I said, tucking the folders under my arm. The vibe of the dining room was cutting and cold, and I just wanted to get the fuck out of there as soon as possible.

  As I headed back home, I thought about what my parents had said.

  If what they claimed was true, and one of the Cadwells really was skimming money off the top to avoid taxes—a theory I’d been trying not to think about for days now—I would put my money on Peyton not knowing about it. She'd be so upset if she knew of these allegations. And I couldn't imagine Francine, who seemed to care so much about her employees, doing something like that either.

  If anything was really going on, it must've been her dad—the grumpy Vincent Cadwell.

  I decided to go back into the accounting offices during my next Mirabella shift and search for more financial records to further confirm or deny any sordid goings-on within the books. I just hoped what I found wouldn't damage my relationship with Peyton.

  I simply couldn’t let that happen.

  In that moment, I knew exactly how I felt about her. There was no point deluding myself and pretending like she was just a girl I liked and wanted to seduce. I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. Peyton wasn’t just any random hot girl. She was something else entirely… and I was already falling for her.

  Hard.

  10 Peyton

  “Pass the maple syrup, please.”

  DeeDee looked over at me with a simpering smile, and I passed the jug of syrup to her across the table without returning her expression.

  We were having a ‘family’ breakfast in Mom and Dad’s suite on the ninth floor. It wasn’t exactly a hotel suite by most people’s definition. Their section of the hotel was essentially a massive luxury apartment complete with a kitchen, dining room, and even spare bedrooms and bathrooms. It wasn’t exactly my style, but it was nice, decorated in cool blue and beige tones with a mix of modern and vintage furniture.

  “Thanks, sis,” DeeDee said, beaming at me as she poured syrup over her pancakes. I could barely suppress the urge to roll my eyes, but I gave her a quick smile, seeing as Dad was looking at us now.

  It’d been two weeks since her return, and one week since we made an official statement to the media. Like any decent hotel, the Mirabella had several conference rooms that could be used for press releases, and the biggest one on the ground floor was where we’d announced Allegra’s return.

  Well, alleged return.

  The room was enormous with oak paneling, high vaulted ceilings, and a polished hardwood floor. It was nearly the size of a ballroom, but the whole time I stood up at the front with the crowd of invited journalists watching my every move, I felt claustrophobic. I tried my best to paste on a happy expression as Dad announced my sister’s joyful, miraculous homecoming, but it would’ve been clear to anyone who studied me closely that I didn’t really want to be there.

  Since that press release, the hotel had been swarmed by even more media employees who wanted to know more. They wanted interviews with us, photos of DeeDee, and they also wanted to know what was happening with the reopening of her kidnapping investigation. Did she remember who took her? Had anyone been questioned? Was she traumatized terribly? How was she settling back in?

  That was just a small sample of the myriad questions thrown at us every day.

  Journalists, photographers, gossip bloggers… you name it, they were there. Every damn minute of every damn day. They weren’t allowed into the hotel, and security had been beefed up around the entrances for that very reason, but it made it impossible for us to leave the building without being mobbed.

  As such, we were essentially prisoners in our own home until this all died down. Even after I became a well-known socialite, I’d never experienced this level of media frenzy, and it made my mind feel fuzzy and exhausted. I’d stopped looking at the news sites over the last few days in an attempt to retain my sanity, though, and that was helping a little.

  What wasn’t helping was my parents’ constant need to play happy families. Every morning now entailed a family breakfast, and wherever either one of my parents went, Allegra went too.

  I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t stand her.

  Dad suddenly stood up at the table. “Shit, I forgot—the F1 race is today. It’s broadcast live from Europe, so it must be about to finish. Would you girls mind if I catch the end of it?”

  Mom rolled her eyes, but the smile on her face was good-natured. “You can have fifteen minutes,” she said, standing up as well. “I have to go and make more pancakes, anyway.”

  The breakfast nook we were eating in wasn’t far from the living room, which contained a huge black leather L-shaped sofa, a coffee table, and a wide-screen TV mounted on the wall. Dad went over to the sofa and flipped the TV on with a remote, and the sound was almost deafening.

  “Sorry. I forgot to turn it down!” he called out. He lowered the volume, then began to switch through channels until he remembered the one he wanted.

  The race was on a break, and a local news segment was playing. Dad hadn’t turned the volume down very low, so DeeDee and I could still hear everything that was being said.

  “So that’s it for the weather. And now to local news—a dog has uncovered an old skeleton in the Araluen botanic gardens, just off Azure Boulevard. The dog’s owner was walking along the edge of one of the garden’s many lakes when her pet apparently went crazy and started digging. Police have told us that the skeleton is female, and sadly, whoever it belonged to was probably only five or six at the time of her death, possibly even younger. Initial analysis showed that the skeleton has probably been buried in the area for somewhere between fifteen and twenty years.”

  I noticed DeeDee’s eyes widen as the news anchor spoke. Her hands began to tremble, and she almost dropped her fork as her face turned white.

  I narrowed my eyes. Why was she so nervous?

  The anchor went on. “Unfortunately, forensics have stated that the skeleton is too degraded by this stage to obtain a reliable DNA sample. As such, police will probably never know who this young Jane Doe was, where she came from, or what happened to her. Very sad news.”

  I was studying DeeDee carefully now, and I noticed that she breathed an audible sigh of relief when the news anchor stated that the recently-unearthed skeleton would be impossible to identify. The color was also returning to her cheeks.

  My pulse sped up as I realized what this could mean—now there was even more of a chance that I was correct about her not being my sister.

  If DeeDee was just a faker, then perhaps she was immediately worried upon hearing that tragic news article, seeing as it was about a young girl’s body being buried near a lake about fifteen years ago. For all she knew, it could be the real Allegra (although I hoped to God that it wasn’t). As such, she was terrified of possibly being caught out…. until the anchor mentioned that the body
was unidentifiable due to degradation. That would make DeeDee feel like she was still safe for now.

  Hence the sigh of relief.

  I stared down at my plate with a frown, my mind racing as I thought everything through. When it came to DeeDee, it felt like all I had was a blank jigsaw in front of me—I had a few of the pieces, but not even the start of a picture.

  I knew why someone might pretend to be a missing heiress. Money, duh.

  But how?

  DeeDee managed to pass a DNA test, and DNA didn’t lie. So unless there was some massive conspiracy involving a whole police precinct, an entire hospital staff, and several independent laboratories, then the DNA results were correct.

  A conspiracy of that scale was absurd, but surely there could still be a way to tamper with the results. Perhaps someone hacked in to all three of the labs computer systems and altered the reports?

  I wasn’t sure, but I intended on getting to the bottom of it, and I needed help to do so.

  With my heart pounding, I stood up. The jug of orange juice on the table had been out for too long, so I picked it up and made an excuse about needing to chill it before slipping into the kitchen, where Mom was flipping pancakes.

  “Mom,” I said, setting the jug down on the marble counter. “Can we talk?”

  “Sure, sweetie. What’s up?”

  I didn’t know where to begin, but I managed to get out a few halting words anyway. “I… I don’t think Allegra is here,” I said softly.

  Mom frowned and paused, holding a pancake mid-flip with the spatula. “Peyton, she’s still right there at the table,” she said, pointing through the arched kitchen entrance before turning to face me again. “When was the last time you had your eyes checked?”