Chapter One
Avery skimmed his email inbox, verifying that the most important messages had been dealt with.
The rest he would forward to his executive assistant to handle.
Despite keeping his direct email at the Charles River Suites as secret as possible, determined investors, day traders, business loan companies, and the occasional enraged guest still managed to snake their way through to his inbox.
The top floor of the twelve-story hotel housed four premium suites. After discovering he spent more time at work than he did in his Cambridge home, he’d upgraded his workspace in case he decided not to bother making the journey home in the late hours.
And those times when each day ran into the next meant he was still comfortable. After all, it wasn’t as if he had any family or pets to worry about at home. Not that he didn’t hope to change his circumstances someday, it was merely that no one had sparked his urge to commit.
However, the yearning to find someone who could belong to him had become stronger lately.
After owning the hotel for over ten years, the overwhelming demands on him had eased.
Renovating the historic building to a five-star destination had taken up the first year, then the grand opening the following year.
The historic building’s exterior had been rejuvenated, returning the Beaux-art style structure to its original grandeur.
Inside, he’d collaborated with designers to create a lobby that fused modern elegance with a nod to the hotel’s roots.
The expansive open area featured polished marble floors, leading to deep royal blue plush carpeting in the registration area.
Antique crystal chandeliers, along with intricately carved velvet furniture, enhanced the hotel's overall opulence.
Once the lobby was completed, the style informed the rest of the interior.
From the upscale restaurant to the ballroom to every guest room, Avery had overseen every detail.
Other amenities such as a spa, indoor pool with a stained-glass ceiling, and jet tubs in the premium rooms had made the hotel a coveted destination and an enormous success.
It had also made him an incredibly wealthy man.
Avery scratched his cheek, then frowned.
It appeared he’d forgotten to shave that morning.
He’d barely slept more than two hours, rolled out of bed, then showered and dressed without his usual morning routine.
The previous day had been a blur of meetings and crisis management after the head chef quit without notice.
Ty, his friend Zane’s boy, who worked in the kitchen, had stepped in to help the sous chef, a much-appreciated gesture that had saved the day.
Avery rubbed his eyes, the grit of exhaustion behind his lids reminding him he was overdoing it. Forty-six wasn’t ancient, but his thirties were long gone, taking his unstoppable energy with them. He chuckled as he shook out his hands. Although his energy had lessened, it hadn’t disappeared.
He leaned back in his desk chair. Perhaps he should consider heading home early tonight, though the thought of his empty Cambridge house held little appeal. At least here, surrounded by the controlled chaos of his business, he felt useful.
A soft knock interrupted his thoughts. “Come in.”
Darla, his executive assistant, a tall mid-thirties redhead with organizational skills that rivaled his own, peeked around the door. “Sir, Mary Chen would like to speak with you if you have a moment.”
“Oh?” Avery pinched his eyebrows together. “Sam isn’t available?”
Typically, his head of housekeeping would discuss any issues with his operations manager.
“He’s taken a sick day, and Mary insists it’s something you’d want to be aware of.”
“I see. Then send her in.”
He quickly checked his watch. Whatever was going on, he hoped it wouldn’t be too involved.
As much as he appreciated Ty’s help, neither he nor the sous chef were ready for the big time.
One of his buddies, who owned his own Michelin-rated establishment, was dropping by in about an hour to assist in his search for the right chef.
Avery glanced up as Mrs. Chen swept into his office, a study in seriousness.
He couldn’t bring himself to call her Mary—not when the short, round woman with a perpetual frown and mostly white hair pinned back in a tight bun meant business.
She was a magnificent manager, and he didn’t know what he’d do without her.
Mrs. Chen regarded him with her lips pressed together, her brow furrowed. However, the typically no-nonsense, perfectly postured woman had her hands tightly folded in front of her as she worried her fingers.
“Sir, I need to speak with you about one of our laundry staff members.” She paused, her fingers still working against each other. “Eli Newman.”
Avery straightened in his chair, his attention sharpening. Mrs. Chen's obvious discomfort was unusual—the woman had weathered everything from flooded guest rooms to drunken wedding parties without so much as a tremor in her voice.
“What seems to be the problem?”
“Well, sir, it’s not a problem with his work.
The young man is quite diligent, actually.
Never complains, quick and meticulous with his duties, keeps to himself.
” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other.
“But this morning, when I went down to check on the overnight laundry loads, I found evidence that someone has been living in the storage room adjacent to the main laundry area.”
Avery arched his eyebrows. "Living there? Are you sure?”
“Yes, Mr. Lakewood. When I moved one of the laundry carts out of my way, I discovered a sleeping bag, some personal belongings, and toiletries. I’m quite certain those items are Mr. Newman’s property.
I've noticed he’s there first thing in the morning, often before his scheduled shift, and stays well past his time to leave.
Initially, I assumed he was simply a dedicated employee. ”
“Hmm, yes.”
Avery frowned, processing the unexpected information.
The hotel’s lower levels weren't exactly comfortable living quarters—concrete floors, industrial lighting, the constant hum of machinery. What would drive someone to sleep there instead of going home? Was Eli homeless? That didn’t seem possible, since he was a recent hire and would’ve needed to give an address on his application.
“Have you spoken with him about this?”
“No, sir. I thought it best to bring it to your attention first.” Mrs. Chen’s fingers continued their nervous dance. “There are liability issues to consider, and of course, it's against policy for employees to use hotel facilities as lodging.”
Avery nodded slowly. He’d dealt with similar situations before—employees facing eviction, domestic troubles, and financial hardship. Usually, a discreet conversation and perhaps a small advance on wages resolved the matter.
“Yes, of course.” Avery checked his watch again. He still had time. “Does he have a shift right now?”
A momentary flash of relief crossed her features before her expression turned impassive again. “Yes, he’s in with the washing machines. I appreciate you speaking with him. He’s an excellent staff member, so I hope it all works out.”
Avery rose from his chair. “I do, too. The final decision of whether he keeps his job is yours, of course. But I want to make sure he isn’t at risk in some way.”
A small smile graced her lips. “You’re a kind man, sir. That’s why I wanted to bring this situation to your attention.”
“You’re welcome to come to me any time, Mrs. Chen. Please don’t feel as though your concerns aren’t important to me.” Avery gestured for her to go ahead of him.
He informed Darla that he probably wouldn’t be coming back to the office before his meeting, then made his way with Mrs. Chen to the service elevator, greeting the staff members as they went along.
As they descended in the elevator, the temperature dropped noticeably.
When they slid to a stop, the doors opened, and he was greeted with a sight that was a stark contrast to the luxury above.
The large basement area was comprised of concrete floors, exposed pipes, and the constant mechanical hum of washers and dryers.
The pungent scent of detergent and fabric softener permeated the air.
Avery navigated through the first section, where several staff members were folding sheets.
They straightened when they noticed him, offering respectful nods.
Mrs. Chen led him through a narrow passageway past industrial shelving stacked with linens to a door at the far end of the room. She knocked once, then pushed it open.
“Eli? Mr. Lockwood would like a word with you.”
The laundry room was even hotter than the main area, the air thick with humidity.
Amid the mechanical churning of several massive washing machines stood a young man with curly, shoulder-length auburn hair pulled back in a loose ponytail.
When he turned, his eyes widened with alarm, a dusting of freckles standing out against his pale skin.
“Sir?” Eli’s voice cracked on the single syllable.
“Thank you, Mrs. Chen. I'll take it from here.” Avery smiled, his gaze fixed on the young man who appeared ready to bolt.
Mrs. Chen left, leaving him alone with Eli, whose expression reminded him of a startled deer. Avery studied his face—the way his hazel eyes darted toward the exit, the tension in his narrow shoulders, the slight tremor in his hands as he gripped a damp towel.
“Relax,” Avery had to raise his voice above the whirr of the machines but strove to keep his tone non-threatening. “You’re not in trouble.”
Eli’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “I—I don’t understand, sir. Did I make a mistake with the laundry?”
The heat in the room was getting to Avery, sweat on his skin forming and making his tailored shirt stick to his back. He loosened his tie slightly, noting how Eli tracked the movement with nervous attention.