21. The Reporters Smile
Chapter twenty-one
The Reporter's Smile
Piper
By Tuesday afternoon, I hated one man professionally and another man romantically.
Neither situation felt emotionally sustainable.
The reporter introduced himself as Daniel Hargrove.
Which was unfortunate because he had the exact kind of polished name belonging to someone who ruined lives through carefully worded emails.
“Miss Bennett,” he said warmly while stepping into the inn lobby, “thank you for taking a moment.”
I smiled my best hospitality smile.
The fake one.
“Of course. Can I offer you lemonade, coffee, or a respectful escort back to the mainland?”
To his credit, he laughed.
“I’ve heard Azure Palms has charm.”
“We weaponize it seasonally.”
Behind him, guests drifted through the open-air lobby while ocean wind stirred the curtains softly.
Everything looked peaceful.
Meanwhile my stress level had developed spiritual depth.
Daniel rested one arm casually against the front desk.
“I’m writing a feature piece on luxury island retreats.”
“You and every influencer with Wi-Fi.”
“But this place is different.”
That immediately put me on edge.
Because he sounded sincere.
The dangerous kind of sincere.
“What makes you say that?”
“Women travel here alone and feel safe.” His gaze moved around the lobby thoughtfully. “That’s rare.”
Okay. Annoyingly observant.
I folded reservation cards neatly to avoid fidgeting.
“We work hard on the atmosphere.”
“And your property manager works hard on everything else.”
There it was.
Straight to Graham.
Of course.
I kept my expression neutral.
“Graham’s good at his job.”
Daniel smiled slightly.
“He’s more than that.”
My pulse tightened immediately.
Interesting. Very interesting.
“Meaning?”
“I’ve interviewed hospitality executives for fifteen years.” He lowered his voice slightly. “Nobody follows a middle manager the way people follow him.”
Oh no.
No no no.
I forced a light laugh.
“You’d be amazed what confidence and cargo shorts can accomplish.”
Daniel’s eyes sharpened.
“He’s important here.”
Every instinct in my body screamed: careful.
I leaned casually against the desk.
“Daniel, respectfully, if this interview turns into billionaire conspiracy theater, I’m charging consulting fees.”
That earned another laugh.
But his attention never fully softened.
Predatory. Polite. Persistent.
“I think Azure Palms is hiding something,” he said calmly.
The words settled heavily in the lobby air between us.
And despite everything—
despite the secrecy and confusion and mounting pressure—
my immediate reaction was defensive.
Not of the mystery.
Of Graham.
Toward the resort.
Toward all of it.
Interesting. And deeply alarming.
I straightened slightly.
“I think Azure Palms survived a tropical storm while keeping two hundred guests safe and happy.”
“I agree.”
“Then maybe write about that.”
Daniel studied me quietly for a long moment.
“You trust him.”
Not a question.
Heat rose instantly into my face.
Annoying.
Very annoying.
“I trust this place.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
Before I could answer, Eleanor appeared beside the lobby piano carrying two shell necklaces and absolutely no patience.
“Oh good,” she announced brightly. “The vulture.”
Daniel blinked.
“I’m sorry?”
Eleanor smiled sweetly.
“I was a school principal for thirty-seven years. I can spot opportunists instantly.”
I nearly inhaled relief.
God bless elderly women.
Daniel recovered quickly though.
“I’m simply asking questions.”
“And I’m simply eighty-one,” Eleanor replied serenely. “Yet here we are.”
The lobby clerk made choking noises behind the reservation desk trying not to laugh.
Linda from Wisconsin wandered through holding a muffin and whispered loudly to another guest:
“If Eleanor starts removing jewelry, somebody should run.”
Fair warning.
Daniel adjusted his tie slightly.
“I’m not trying to hurt the resort.”
“No?” Eleanor tilted her head. “Then why do you keep circling one tired man like he owes you a confession?”
That hit harder than intended.
Because yes.
Exactly that.
The whole resort felt increasingly centered around Graham now.
Questions. Pressure. Speculation.
And every day he looked a little more exhausted carrying it all.
Like the effort of holding everything together was finally starting to show.
The realization tugged painfully at my chest again.
Daniel looked toward the marina windows thoughtfully.
“He’s hiding something.”
I crossed my arms.
“Everyone’s hiding something.”
“Not like this.”
Before I could answer, movement near the entrance caught my eye.
Graham.
Of course.
The moment he stepped into the lobby, the entire atmosphere shifted subtly.
Staff relaxed. Guests noticed. And Daniel?
Daniel went completely still.
Like a hunter finally spotting movement in the trees.
Oh absolutely not.
Graham walked toward us calmly, though I knew him well enough now to spot tension immediately – slightly rigid shoulders, controlled breathing, eyes already assessing threat levels
Dangerous that I noticed. More dangerous that I cared.
“Mr. Hargrove,” Graham greeted evenly.
“Mr. Mercer.”
The men shook hands briefly.
The air between them felt sharp enough to cut fruit.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Eleanor muttered quietly beside me: “Oh, I hate this.”
Same.
Daniel slipped his hands into his pockets casually.
“I was just complimenting your resort.”
“Our resort appreciates it.”
There.
Tiny thing.
But my pulse stumbled anyway.
Our resort.
Not – the resort.
Our.
Daniel noticed too.
Of course he did.
“I imagine you’re very invested in its success.”
“You could say that.”
God.
The tension in this conversation felt like standing beside electrical wiring in the rain.
I stepped in before things became weirdly masculine.
“Daniel wanted background information for his article.”
Graham looked at me briefly.
And there it was again – that tiny softening reserved only for me lately.
Dangerous. Always dangerous.
Then his attention returned immediately to the reporter.
“What specifically are you writing about?”
Daniel smiled politely.
“Community. Trust. Legacy.”
Every word sounded loaded.
Graham’s expression remained unreadable.
Unfortunately I knew him well enough now to realize that meant he was stressed.
Very stressed.
A silence stretched briefly across the lobby.
Ocean wind moved softly through the open doors. Lantern chimes clinked faintly outside.
Then Daniel spoke again.
“Actually,” he said lightly, “I’d love to ask a few direct questions about ownership.”
There it was.
The real target.
I felt Graham go completely still beside me.
Not visibly. Not dramatically.
But enough that I noticed.
Because apparently my body now tracked his tension automatically.
Excellent. Healthy. Not concerning at all.
Daniel continued calmly.
“Azure Palms has an unusually complex financial structure for a private resort.”
I blinked.
How much had he uncovered already?
Graham’s voice stayed perfectly level.
“We maintain multiple donor partnerships.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
The silence afterward felt heavy.
Sharp.
And suddenly I understood something terrifying:
Daniel wasn’t guessing anymore.
He knew enough to be dangerous.
And that was somehow worse.
Before the conversation could sharpen further, Graham looked toward me suddenly.
“Piper.”
Something in his voice made my stomach tighten immediately.
“Yeah?”
“Can we talk later?”
The seriousness in his expression stole my breath for half a second.
Because suddenly—
suddenly he looked like a man standing at the edge of a decision.
And deep down…
I already knew what it was.
Later that night, after the lanterns dimmed and the resort quieted beneath moonlight, I found a note slipped beneath my office door.
Simple handwriting. Short message.
Lighthouse after shift. I’ll tell you everything.—G
My pulse kicked violently against my ribs.
Oh dear God.
It was finally happening.