Chapter Thirty-Three
We lie here, naked, his arms holding me tightly against his sweaty chest. Our hearts beat in rhythm.
This time, I’m the one wondering how my night ended up here.
In the hidden hotel room behind my boss’s office.
I’m not sure where we go from here; there’s so much to say, but I can’t find the words.
I think I’m falling in love with him.
Even if I can’t say it out loud, there’s no denying that I feel it.
It’s palpable, flowing between us like an electric current. Every time we so much as pass each other in the corridors, it pulses between us.
His hand drifts lazily over my bare skin. “Penny for your thoughts.”
“I’m just lying here, wondering how often you bring girls down here.”
“I’ve never had a woman in here.”
“Then why do you have your own private sex dungeon?”
He chuckles. “Do you see any rope or whips lying around?”
“They could be hidden too,” I quip.
“My grandfather had this room added when the hotel was built. I sleep here sometimes when I work late or when there’s a party or event where I’ve had too many drinks, and I don’t want to drive all the way back to Moose.”
Hmm.
“So, no secret liaisons?”
“Before tonight? No.”
I roll to my side and look down at him.
“Anything else you want to know?”
“Anything?”
He twirls one of my curls around his finger. “Just ask.”
“How did you know we were investigating upstairs tonight?”
“I didn’t. Diana told me about the guest requesting to move rooms, and I was coming to investigate myself.”
“Looking for the ghost?”
He gives me an exasperated look. “No. Looking to see if something was wrong with the room’s lighting or electricity. Ghosts aren’t real.”
“How do you know?”
He exhales a deep breath. “There was a woman who died here ninety years ago. Her name was Belle. She was a young lady who was a special friend to a guest. And she jumped from the balcony of the main inn the night of the Christmas gala.”
“So, it’s all true.”
“That part is. Mostly.”
“Who was the guest? Why did she jump? Why did the Belicourt help cover it up?”
The questions roll off my tongue in rapid succession.
“Because the guest was Theodore Garrison. My great-grandfather’s younger brother and my great-uncle. He was a gubernatorial candidate, and my great-great-grandfather really wanted him elected that year.”
“Oh wow.”
“Apparently, he would stay at the hotel while campaigning, and his family—he had a wife and two daughters—would stay at their home in Jackson.”
He pauses.
“Back then, Fitzgerald was known to procure ladies for special guests.”
“Prostitutes? Ew, but, okay, that still doesn’t explain why she jumped.”
“She became pregnant, and she told Theodore the night of the Christmas gala. An event he had told her he had gotten her a ticket to attend. She showed up, expecting to be his date, but in actuality, he had secured her a position, serving guests. She was distraught, told him her secret. He denied the baby was his, and she refused to leave his room. He went on to the gala and sent security up to remove her. When they wrestled her from the room, she threw herself over the balcony.”
“Was it room 522?”
“No. I don’t know how that room became the focus of the ghost stories.”
“What room was it?”
He cuts his eyes to me and shakes his head.
“You’re not gonna tell me, are you?”
“Nope. The room isn’t important.”
“Is it even on the fifth floor?”
“No.”
I lie back against the pillows.
“Anything else you want to know?”
“No, that pretty much covers it. Your great-great-grandfather and great-uncle were douchebags.”
“It was a different time. Fitzgerald did have the entire thing swept under the rug. He paid off the staff, police, and witnesses. But he also made sure his son was not elected governor. And he gave a large sum of money to the girls’ home Belle lived at and took care of her sister, who was also living there, for the rest of her life.
This included paying for her education all the way through med school. ”
So, the missing teen from the girls’ home was The Lady in Red.
“Really?”
“Really.”
“I guess that does make it better. Are there secret passages under the hotel?” I ask the other question on my mind.
“Yes, there are passages under the hotel. No, they weren’t a secret. It was how vendors brought in supplies and the postal service brought in mail. Fitzgerald didn’t want delivery personnel running all over his hotel.”
“Are they still there?”
“Yes, but they were sealed off decades ago when the additions were added to the main inn.”
“Were they used to bring the girls into the hotel?”
“That I do not know. Does it matter?”
“Not really. Do you think Belle haunts the Belicourt?”
“No. It’s folklore. People who were there told others they weren’t supposed to, and that person told someone else.
The details keep changing. The floor. The room number.
The only thing that has never changed is the color of her dress.
It’s like the never-ending telephone game.
And every year, especially around the holidays, I have to deal with an influx of Scooby-Doo sleuths. ”
Oops.
“Am I Scooby-Doo or Shaggy? I ask.
He shakes his head, amused.
“Velma?” I add.
He smirks.
“You’re definitely more Daphne than Velma.”
“Whew, thank goodness,” I say. Then, I bite my lip. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” he says, tugging me onto his chest. “At least you I get to spank.”
“Hmm,” I hum. “I’ll have to let you catch me again. I kinda like angry boss man.”
His eyes heat.
“He’s almost as sexy as just Porter.”
He chuckles. Then he goes quiet, his hand running up and down my back.
“What are you thinking?” I whisper.
“That I have no idea what to do about us.”
I lift my head and bring my eyes to his.
“Is there an us?”
He lets the question linger in the air between us, and I can hear my heart slamming against my chest as I wait for him to speak.
He lifts a hand and gently swipes a loose curl behind my ear before he finally speaks.
“I think it’s pointless anymore to try and pretend there isn’t an us. Don’t you agree?”
I nod slowly.
“What are we going to do about this nonfraternization thing?” I ask.
“That’s easy,” he says. “You’re fired.”
I pick up a pillow and whack him over the head with it. “I’m serious.”
He wrestles the pillow from my hands and flips me on my back, covering me with his body.
“We’ll figure it out.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”