Chapter 11
NYAH
On Sunday, I saw him again—supervising, helping, talking to staff and guests. And in semi-formal dress, no less. The Savile Row suit he’d worn the day before was probably at the cleaners after he’d gotten down and dirty with the kitchen hands.
I had put on my imaginary detective hat the day he had the flowers placed in my office.
Resolved to keep my ears and eyes open, I tried to figure out what was behind the ‘nice guy’ act.
My suspicions had grown further when I had seen him at the front desk checking guests in.
Something didn’t add up, but watching him over the past several weeks made me think.
Maybe, just maybe, he was genuinely trying to change.
Then his words came back to me like a lightning bolt. Women like you use men. I dismissed the thought immediately. Only time would tell.
Two university students who worked part-time as room service attendants had been gushing about him in the staff cafeteria. Amy overheard them and told me about it later.
“He’s really trying to change,” she said seriously, handing me a file. “I don’t think it’s an act. And it’s not just a couple of them. You should hear the rest of the staff. He even bought us coffee and pastries.”
“Us?” I asked. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Did Amy really believe he’d changed? My suspicions deepened—and then it hit me.
Money!
It made perfect sense. I knew Randall had given him an ultimatum, though I wasn’t privy to the details. He must have threatened to lock down the trust fund. No more fancy restaurants. No more international travel. That would’ve spooked him.
It’s all about the money.
This was the perfect performance. Eventually, he’d be running the empire alongside his siblings. More money than he could dream of. This hotel was just the beginning.
I stared out the window, fingers intertwined. There was no other explanation. The nice-guy act would last just long enough for him to earn his seat at the boardroom table—if he could keep it up that long.
One Friday in mid-August, Elle surprised me at work. We escaped to Little Bangkok for lunch, our favourite Thai place. Over fish cakes and pad thai, she finally vented about her relationship with Karl. Living with her mother-in-law had left her with no privacy and nowhere to breathe.
“It’s so damn hard, Nyah,” she said. “We’ve been arguing constantly. I just want a break.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, listening. Then an idea sparked. “You know what? You two need to get out of that house. Why don’t we go dancing?”
Her eyes lit up instantly. “Yes… Oh yes! Let’s do it tonight.” She slapped the table, drawing stares. “I’ll make plans.”
We walked back to my office arm in arm, licking ice creams, Elle chattering happily while I listened.
At my door, she turned. “Drinks and pizza at your place before the club? Eight o’clock?”
I nodded.
She clapped her hands. “I’m so excited. I really wanna dance my head off tonight.”
The elevator dinged behind her. Caleb stepped out—and Elle, of course, was blocking the doorway.
Before I could stop her, she blurted, “Hey, you look like a party guy. Nyah needs a dance partner tonight. What d’ya say?”
Oh, Elle, you did not just do that. “He can’t,” I cut in quickly. “He’s busy. I’m sure he has better things to do, and… FYI, he’s my boss’s son.”
Elle’s eyes sparkled. “I recognize you. Those Milan photos don’t do you justice.”
I wanted the floor to swallow me. Seriously! What the hell, Elle?
“Dancing, you say?” Caleb said, obviously practiced at ignoring references to his skinny-dipping scandal. “I’d love to.” He took her hand. “Caleb Evans. And you would be?”
“Elle,” she laughed. “Nyah’s best friend. She talks about you all the time.”
Heat rushed to my face, and I wished the ground would swallow me whole—mortified that she had just exposed how often his name had crossed my lips.
“About my dancing, no doubt. Hence the invitation, right?” he said.
“R-r-r-right.” Elle turned and shrugged at me apologetically.
This couldn’t be happening. I shut my eyes and wished I could rewind time. Why would he want to join them anyway? He barely knew me—beyond the fact I loved lilies, which Amy had told him. Wasn’t it painfully obvious that I didn’t want this?
Elle took his phone, dialled herself, and texted the details. Then she hugged me, waved at Caleb, and disappeared.
Settling in behind my desk after I entered my office, my phone buzzed. I assumed it was an apology from Elle—and yes, it was, mixed with her usual mischief.
I looked up and nearly jumped when I saw Caleb in my doorway.
“How can I help you?”
“I want to debrief on Monday,” he said. “I’ve spent time in each department and spotted a few opportunities. I thought we could sit down and discuss them.”
Sit down and discuss. I nodded, keeping my expression neutral.
As he turned to leave, he added, “I guess I’ll see you tonight. I’m looking forward to it.”
Then he was gone.
Maybe he’ll change his mind, I told myself. Or get sick. Or be called away on some absurd secret mission to Africa.
I cursed softly.
I left work early, trying not to think about the evening that lay ahead. As soon as I opened the door of my apartment, the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. A scent. Someone had been inside.
Has he found me? I entered slowly. I took the mace from my handbag, held it out in front of me, and crept through the door, listening carefully.
Alex hadn’t called with any follow-up from our last conversation. Then again, that had been a month ago. I was supposed to have followed up with him, but I’d snoozed the reminder on my phone when I was at the restaurant with Elle.
He was a police officer I’d met while working at a diner when I first arrived in Vancouver.
Being a block away from the police station, he’d often come in for coffee, either alone or with his partner.
One day, he’d asked me to have a seat across from him.
His brown eyes had been serious as he slid a piece of paper across the table.
It was a picture of a girl—not me as I looked now, but a younger version of myself who vaguely resembled me. My hair was much shorter in the photo. Etched across it were the words: Wanted for robbery and assault.
My senses had sharpened instantly. Knowing I couldn’t outrun Alex, I told him everything. “He knows the law,” I’d said. “He has resources and contacts at his disposal.”
“I won’t let him find you, Nyah,” he’d said, trying to reassure me. “Trust me.”
“You don’t understand,” I’d said, irritation creeping into my voice. “He’s dangerous.”
Keeping my identity a secret, Alex had started an investigation. He’d put a tracker on Jeremy Lipster to alert me if he ever showed up in Vancouver.
I’d been so careful. Keeping a low profile was a priority.
No Facebook. No Twitter. And especially no Instagram.
I declined every request to tag me in pictures on social media, even when Elle or Donna asked.
I’d outright refused when the interviewer pressed for at least one photo for the Hospitality magazine article.
Now, as I entered the kitchen and grabbed a knife, my breathing was quick and shallow. I inspected each room. I opened every closet. I checked behind the curtains. My hands started to shake and flutter.
I turned on all the lights in the living room and looked under every piece of furniture. I scrutinized every inch of Lucas’s room. Every muscle in my body was clenched as I crouched to look under the bed.
In my lilac-coloured bedroom, I found my lingerie drawer open. Did I leave it that way? Adrenaline shot through my system, triggering the sickening flutter of palpitations in my chest. Everything was still neatly folded and in place. I closed the drawer. Maybe I did leave it open.
I turned in a slow three-sixty, scrutinizing my surroundings. Finally satisfied, I called Larry, the condo concierge.
He told me there’d been a maintenance check on all apartments over the past week and that security had escorted the workers in case residents weren’t home. “Didn’t you get the memo?” he asked.
I apologized, wiped the sweat from my face, and breathed a sigh of relief. After double-checking that the door was bolted shut, I checked my mail—and there it was.
A bright red memo nestled between the other envelopes.
As I flicked through the mail, I saw another letter from Lucas. I shrieked and tore it open.
Dear Mama,
We are now in a place called Deer Lake Park. Last night we all slept under the stars. It was magecal. I shot a riffel. I am a good aimer. Do you think we can get one?
There are a lot of animals here, too. I really like dogs.
If I had a dog, I would name him after my favourite cookie.
My friends and me put peanut butter in the cousillor’s hat.
It was very funny. We will catch glow worms now, and there is a storey telling session in the night. All of us are very excited.
I miss you, Mama, and I can’t wait to see you.
Love, Lucas
A quick call to him made me feel better instantly.
I lay down for what was supposed to be a short nap, but ended up hitting snooze twice.
After eating leftover pasta, I showered, then called Dr. Sloan to ask if I could skip that night’s dose of my medication.
He’d given me his personal number the first time we met and told me I could call anytime I had questions or concerns.
“Yes, you can,” he said, sounding concerned. “But when are you planning to do the surgery? The medication can only get you so far.”
I thought of the letter and the money I’d left for Elle to care for Lucas if anything ever happened to me. “It will be soon,” I promised. “Most probably by the end of summer.”
After hanging up, I got ready for the evening. My emerald, one-shoulder dress lay on the bed, waiting. I am going to have fun whether Mr. Pompous shows up or not.