Just a Fling: A Heartthrob Hotel Novella

by Kiss, Tabatha

  “You didn’t read it?” she asks over me.

  “No.”

  Stella presses her ruby lips together and takes the empty seat in front of me. “Might I suggest you do, Ira.”

  My gut clenches. “He’s more than just a nanny, isn’t he?”

  “Mr. Clark?”

  “Yeah.”

  “No, he’s a nanny,” she says. “An exceedingly qualified one, at that.”

  I grit my teeth. “Dammit,” I whisper to myself.

  “No, I’m referring to his employer and our current hotel guest, Ms. Veronica Robb.”

  “Wait, wait.” I lean forward. “I didn’t ask your brother to look into her.”

  “Somebody did.”

  I blink twice. “You’ve lost me, Stella.”

  She takes a deep breath and I bite down. Stella only takes a breath this big when she’s got a lot to say.

  “Does the name Randall Wood mean anything to you?” she asks.

  I shake my head. “No.”

  “About a week ago, Mr. Wood attempted to hire Nigel to track down his girlfriend. He claimed she was a suicide risk. She ran away from home and he wanted to find her and bring her home before something happened. Nigel took the case, of course. He’s an adrenaline junkie and nothing quite gets him going like a case with a time limit. However, five minutes into his search, he called Mr. Wood back and told him to go fuck himself.”

  “Why?” I ask.

  “Turns out, his girlfriend wasn’t actually a girlfriend at all. And she didn’t run away from home. She ran away from him… and she took her infant child along with her.”

  Veronica.

  I hold my breath as Stella rises from her chair.

  “You should read the report, Ira,” she says. “I think you’ll find it enlightening. As head of security, of course.”

  I nod. “Thanks, Stella.”

  “I’ll be back in town on Monday if you need to talk about it.”

  “Have a safe flight,” I say, my voice sounding foreign in my ears.

  She offers a warm smile, a rare happenstance from her, before opening the door and closing it behind her.

  I’m on my laptop before the door even latches, quickly clicking open my email and scrolling down through a wall of work blasts and spam to get to Stella’s last message.

  Nigel’s forwarded report sits in the attachments. I hesitated before, thinking that was nothing but confirmation of Derrick’s wonderfully annoying child-rearing skills, but there was something far bigger sitting here this whole time.

  A time bomb.

  Fifteen

  Veronica

  I turn away from my reflection and present myself. “Okay, Michelle, how do I look?” I ask.

  Michelle says nothing, obviously. She just sits in the car seat on the bed, strapped-in and waiting while I mix-and-match through the same bag of clothes I had in my car.

  “That’s it?” I ask. “Not even a grunt of acknowledgment? Or a comically well-timed fart? Or drool! I’ll take drool.”

  She opens her mouth, letting out the daintiest giggle and I grin.

  “That’ll do, I guess.”

  I step over to the bed. As nervous as I am to make my debut in the Botsford family, I’d say I’m double-nervous for Michelle’s. I’ve been so protective of her, I don’t think she’s ever been in a room with more than a couple of people at a time until today.

  However, standing back and watching her uncles absolutely swoon over her made me a proud mama. She’s already won them over. Surely, she can win over her grandparents, too.

  Two knocks tap the door and I throw on a big smile to entertain the kiddo.

  “Who is that?” I ask as I glance at the clock.

  Just after six. Strange. He’s late.

  I still pause to peek through the peephole to confirm it’s Ira. There he is. The handsome devil himself, poised to perfection in his business suit and navy-blue tie.

  I open the door and smile at him. “There you are, stranger.”

  “Sorry I’m late,” he says, his voice slightly stilted.

  I take a step back to give him a better view. “How does this look? Be honest.”

  Ira closes the door behind him and looks me over. “You look fine,” he says.

  “Fine fine?” I ask. “Or could be better fine? My really nice stuff is on a truck somewhere and I wasn’t sure if this birthday party was casual, semi-casual, or—”

  “It’s perfect, V,” he says, his eyes on the floor.

  I follow his eyeline, checking in case some horrible stain got his attention but there’s nothing there. “Ira, what’s up?” I ask. “You look nervous. Should I be more nervous?”

  He swallows. “No.”

  “Because I honestly wasn’t doing too badly until I saw your face just now.”

  I look around again, suddenly realizing that he’s actually staring behind me.

  At Michelle.

  Why is he looking at her like that?

  I shift back around and his downturn eyes instantly jut away. “Ira, what’s wrong?” I ask.

  He takes a deep breath, sending a cold shiver down my spine. “Veronica, who is Randall Wood?” he asks.

  I freeze in place, torn between the instinct to grab my child and run or fall to my knees and cry.

  “Did Derrick say something to you?” I ask, my voice shaking.

  Ira stands as still as a brick wall, his sharp eyes tracking me like a hawk as he shakes his head back and forth.

  “Then, where did you—”

  “Just answer the question, V.”

  I inhale sharply. Ira notices and lets a little of that rough tension slip from his shoulders.

  “Please,” he adds.

  Michelle babbles from the car seat, drawing me to her like a magnet. I sit down on the bed beside her, gently placing one hand inside to comfort her. The air in the room grows heavier by the moment and the only way to make it better is to do what I should have done days ago.

  “Randall is the reason why I left Iowa,” I answer. “He was a patient.”

  “Of yours?” he asks.

  “No, not directly. At the hospital I worked at.” I take another breath through the lump in my throat. “He was brought in earlier this year following a car accident. Stayed a few days for observation and then he was gone. A bit after, I was out getting groceries one night and we ran into each other. I recognized him, he recognized me. We got to chatting, he asked me out for coffee. He seemed… normal. A little dorky, but normal.”

  Ira stays quiet, his eyes locked on mine with deep interest.

  “Anyway…” I pause, gathering my thoughts. “Coffee went well-enough, so… one thing led to the next, as they say.”

  “You slept with him,” Ira says.

  “Once.” I nod. “He wasn’t… well, he was no Ira Botsford, if you know what I mean.”

  “But he wanted twice?”

  “He wanted me,” I say. “The next morning, he called. I put him down easy. Said I had a good time but wasn’t interested in going further. He seemed understanding. Then, he called the next morning and it was as if the first call never happened. He wanted to see me again. I said no. I’d hang up. He’d call back. I’d say no again. Still, he’d call back. When I stopped answering his calls, he started showing up at the hospital.”

  “You reported him.”

  I blink. That wasn’t a question. “Yes, I did,” I say. “I filed a police report. I couldn’t do much else. I hadn’t recorded any of the calls and he’d never left a voicemail, so the officer I spoke to said it was too he-said-she-said.” I scoff. “Indirectly called me a whore once or twice, too.”

  Ira silently flexes his jaw.

  “After that, Randall disappeared,” I continue. “I thought maybe the police report had spooked him and I was free. Shortly after, I got on a plane, came to Vegas for my conference, and spent a thoroughly-relaxing and cathartic night with you.”

  I glance at Michelle and smile, happy to find her sleeping thro
ugh this.

  “And then?” Ira asks.

  I drop my eyes to the floor. “When I came back home, my door was unlocked. Nothing was stolen but my bed had been slept in, my underwear drawer was…” I swallow hard. “He’d been there. I filed another report but there were no witnesses and I had no proof to speak of so, nothing happened. No one believed me. I broke my lease and stayed in a hotel for a week while I found a new apartment. I couldn’t stand to be there after that. Things went quiet for a while again.” I pull my head up to look at Ira. “A month later, I found out I was pregnant.”

  Ira shifts on his feet, casually dropping his head in thought as he paces along the floor.

  “When I started to show… so did he.” I bite down, hardening my voice. “Randall started popping up at the hospital again. He’d sit in the waiting rooms just… staring at my stomach with this gross smile on his face. I told him to go away. He’d refuse. I’d call security about a suspicious person. They’d question him. He’d always make up some excuse to be there but when those stopped working… he started hurting himself just to get admitted to the hospital.”

  “And they still didn’t believe you after that?” Ira asks.

  “Derrick did,” I answer. “A few of the other nurses did, but mostly, no. The injuries were from some rather convenient accidents and didn’t appear self-inflicted, so they brushed me off. Eventually, though, Randall slipped up and they called in a psych evaluation. He disappeared again but I couldn’t shake the feeling in my gut that he was still around. I requested a transfer out of Iowa to anywhere else but it was hard finding somewhere that wouldn’t mind immediate maternity leave. A friend at the hospital got me in touch with her cousin here in Vegas… well, you know the rest. I packed up my life. Derrick packed up his. We came here.”

  Ira stares at me, his gaze just as sharp as before. “Is that all?” he asks.

  I nod. “That’s the gist of it, yeah. I thought if I left it’d all be over, but…” I cringe, picturing Randall’s crazy, ruthless eyes. “He—”

  “Is he Michelle’s father?”

  I choke on a gasp. “What? No. Is that what you really think?”

  “Veronica,” he says, wanting the truth.

  “Ira, no.” I stand up tall off the bed. “You are one-hundred percent, beyond the shadow of a doubt, Michelle’s biological father.”

  His expression doesn’t change. “Are you sure?”

  My heart bleeds. “Yes. That night with… him, it was in July. I found out I was pregnant in October at six weeks. It is impossible for her father to be anyone but you and I can prove it. What do you need?”

  “Veronica—”

  “Medical records?” I suggest as tears blur my vision. “Insurance forms? Her birth certificate has your name on it! I have all of it. A paternity test? Fine. We’ll get one right now. Let’s do it. This is Vegas, right? You have drive-thru wedding chapels here. There’s gotta be some sort of one-hour laboratory or something.”

  Ira edges toward me. “Stop.”

  “No, I wouldn’t lie to you, Ira!”

  He comes in close and cups my face. “I believe you,” he whispers.

  I touch his wrists, wanting to keep them there for as long as possible as I quiver in his hands. “You do?”

  His thumb swipes a tear from my cheek. “Yes. I believe you. It’s okay,” he says, whispering as I struggle not to fall to pieces.

  I collapse in his arms and he wraps them around me, pulling me closer for a hard embrace. He digs a hand into my scalp and kisses my head, softly telling me over and over again that it’s okay.

  I settle into it, feeling safe — safe — for the first time in so long but that cruel chill remains in my gut.

  It’s not over yet.

  “He’s here,” I say, sniffing. “Randall. I saw him—”

  “I know.”

  I raise my head. “You know?”

  Ira keeps his hands on me, softly gripping my arms. “He hired some skeevy private investigators to find out where you were going and followed you here.”

  My stomach turns. “How do you know that?”

  He winces slightly. “Because… I hired a private investigator to look into… Derrick.”

  I blink twice. “You did?”

  “I’m sorry,” he says, his breath heavy. “It was right after you told me about Michelle and I overreacted. I wanted to make sure he was legit but when your name came up in connection with his, my guy put two and two together and told me I ought to let you know Randall was on his way.”

  “Uh…” I exhale hard. “Okay. What’d you find on Derrick?”

  He scoffs. “Nothing.”

  I raise a brow. “Don’t sound too disappointed now.”

  “No, I’m…” his throat clears, “I’m happy he’s a decent guy. A corn-fed Iowa boy but… decent.”

  “More than decent,” I say.

  “And I’m thankful to hear that he believed you and he was there for you and Michelle when I couldn’t be.”

  I give a short smile. “I’m sorry I didn’t give you the choice to be there.”

  Ira leans in close and kisses my nose. “I’m here now,” he says. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

  He slides his phone out of his pocket and swipes the screen.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  He puts it up to his ear. “I’m taking care of you and my daughter,” he says.

  I swallow hard as a flurry of warmth trembles my spine. He reaches out and rests his hand on my shoulder, his touch somehow soft and firm at the same time.

  A voice finally answers, too low for me to hear it.

  “Hayden, are you at the restaurant yet?” Ira asks. He listens for a response, slowly nodding. “Good. Meet me in my office downstairs. Bring Jonah. Is Graham with you?” He looks at me. “Bring him, too.”

  “Ira, why—”

  He holds up a finger, casually silencing me.

  I’ve seen this look on faces before. You see all sorts of people while working long, late night shifts in the ER, especially those on the receiving end of someone’s fist. Bar brawls, street gangs, schoolyard rivalries.

  Most end up laughing it off but some of them sit there, quietly taking their stitches while their friends make quiet, whispered phone calls.

  Someone’s about to get their ass kicked.

  “Ira, no,” I say.

  He hangs up and heads toward the door. “Stay here. Keep the door locked.”

  “What are you gonna do?”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Ira.”

  He ignores me and quickens his stride but I rush forward to plant myself between him and the door.

  “Don’t do anything stupid, Ira,” I warn. “He’s dangerous.”

  “So am I.”

  He tries to reach around me but I dig my heels in.

  “Yeah,” I say. “That doesn’t make me feel any better about this...”

  Despite his heavy shoulders, Ira looks at me with that light, devilish stare. “Everything will be fine, V,” he says, his hand gently curling around the doorknob. “Trust me.”

  “Are you gonna hurt him?” I ask.

  “Of course not.” He kisses the edge of my mouth as he twists the knob behind me. “We’re just gonna… scare him a little bit.”

  Ira yanks the door open, forcing me to get out of the way.

  “Scare him?” I repeat. “Scare him how?”

  He steps out into the hall and stops in front of Derrick’s door.

  I deflate, accepting the inevitable from the doorway while he knocks twice.

  Derrick opens his door across the hallway, his face locked with interest. “What’s up, guys?” he asks.

  Ira nods. “Stay with the girls until I get back. Do not open the door to anyone but me. Understand?”

  Derrick happily sighs. “Oh, thank god. She finally told you.”

  I roll my eyes.

  Ira casts a glance at me, his expression still light, but solemn. “I
’ll be back soon,” he says.

  I watch him go, my pulse pounding harder with each step he takes toward the elevator.

  Derrick closes his door. “Well, you heard the man.” He points over my shoulder. “In.”

  I glare at him.

  “In,” he says again, this time putting his hands on my shoulders and guiding me backward. “Ira will be fine. This is what he does, right?”

  I nod, reluctantly.

  Yes. This is exactly the type of thing Ira excels at.

  That’s why I’m worried.

  Sixteen

  Ira

  The elevator is completely silent.

  I stare straight ahead, eyes locked on my reflection as well as the three men standing behind me.

  My brothers. Graham with his stiff upper lip. Hayden with his thick shoulders. Jonah with his ever-pensive expression. The brown-eyed, dark-haired Botsford boys. We’re all different in various ways but if there’s one thing we all agree on it’s the importance of protecting our own. Whatever the cost.

  And Michelle is a Botsford.

  It didn’t take much beyond that to convince them.

  The elevator stops on the 16th floor. I step off first while my brothers follow close behind me toward room 1614. Randall Wood. He’s booked through Saturday.

  He’ll be checking out early, though.

  I don’t bother knocking. Instead, I reach into my pocket and withdraw the grand master key Marla very graciously provided from the safe behind the front desk and swipe it through.

  The light flashes from red to green and I push the door open.

  We get to work.

  Graham and Jonah split off, one striding toward the dresser while the latter throws open the closet. Jonah finds a duffel bag on the floor and sets it open on the bed before heading back to the closet. Graham does a quick check of the dresser drawers, finding a few shirts and a pair of jeans. He stuffs them into the open duffel and checks the next drawer down.

  Hayden plants himself with his back to the door and stays there, his eyes locked and ears open on the closed bathroom door across the suite. The showerhead is on. Good. Our guest of honor is here. Makes my job a whole lot easier.