Chapter 2 #2
He moved to the next arch, and Kate trailed behind, curiosity overriding jet lag.
“Here is the office. It has a docking station, monitors, a multifunction printer, and all the basic supplies in the desk or cabinet. If you’d like a desktop computer or anything else, call the Business Center.
Technology changes so quickly, only the basics are kept here.
There should be a list of available equipment in the desk drawer. ”
Kate stepped in and something in her chest expanded.
The furniture was styled in the same rustic rattan as the living room, but the space felt purposeful, designed for productivity.
A substantial desk faced more floor-to-ceiling windows, designed to capture natural light during the day.
She could already imagine herself there, laptop open, fingers flying as words flowed.
The view outside showed lush grounds bathed in soft pathway lighting, palm fronds swaying in the breeze. Peaceful. Inspiring. Perfect.
“It’s perfect,” she whispered, and meant it. For the first time since she’d accepted this deadline, hope flickered—fragile as a candle flame, but real.
Mario withdrew, and Kate followed him back to the entryway, her gaze catching on a staircase winding upward. The treads were polished wood with an iron railing, curving gracefully to a balcony hallway that ran above the kitchen.
“Upstairs is the bedroom and master bath,” Mario explained. “If you’d like to explore or relax, I’ll get your luggage and bring it up for you.”
He disappeared outside, leaving her alone in the beautiful space. The silence settled around her like a blanket—not the oppressive quiet of her apartment, where every creak made her think of deadlines and failure, but a peaceful hush that invited rest.
She wandered back into the kitchen. When she opened the cabinet above the coffeemaker, the aroma of fresh coffee beans wafted out, rich and inviting.
Inside, she discovered a cache of what looked like high-end Costa Rican coffee and a variety of Adagio teas in jewel-toned tins, alongside cream, sugar, honey, and everything else she might need.
No generic hotel coffee here. No cutting corners. Just quality, the same standard that permeated every detail of this place.
A relaxing drink before bed, something to calm her racing thoughts and help her sleep instead of lying awake worrying about word counts and plot holes.
Kate selected a fragrant white tea—White Dawn, the delicate leaves pale and elegant—and started the electric kettle.
The muted click and hum as it heated grounded her in the moment.
What a roller coaster of a day. She’d swung from exhausted despair to confrontation to... this. This impossible luxury, this unexpected kindness. Nicholas Ivory’s personal suite. His home.
The memory of green eyes focusing on her with genuine attention made her stomach flutter, and she pressed her palm against the cool granite countertop, willing herself to be sensible.
He’d been kind because it was good business, because his front office manager had screwed up monumentally. Nothing more.
But God, he’d been so... present. So real. Not the distant, polished executive she’d expected, but someone who listened, who cared, who took her observations seriously instead of dismissing them.
Mario poked his head into the kitchen, interrupting her dangerous train of thought.
“I put your computer case in the office, and the rest of your luggage in the bedroom. There are two safes here if you need them—one in the office closet, and the other in the bedroom closet. Is there anything else I can do for you before I leave?”
His voice rang with genuine warmth, and Kate’s throat tightened with unexpected emotion. After the day she’d had, this kindness was a balm to a wound.
“No, thank you, Mario. This suite is beautiful.” The words didn’t convey the gratitude swelling in her chest, but they were all she could manage without embarrassing herself.
She reached for her purse to tip him, but Mario smiled and politely refused, his eyes twinkling in the light. “Thank you, Ms. Danvers; I appreciate the thought. However, tips are unnecessary here in Ivory Cay. We are paid living wages, not tipped rates.”
The simple statement made Kate’s heart clench. Of course they were. Of course Nicholas Ivory would run that kind of operation, would value his employees enough to pay them properly rather than expecting guests to supplement poverty wages.
She thought of Victoria Evans in her designer clothes, sabotaging reservations, creating fake IDs. What had driven someone working in a place like this—with fair wages and beautiful surroundings—to steal? Because that’s what it had to be. Theft. Embezzlement. Something.
And Nicholas would find out. Would deal with it. She’d seen the steel beneath his courtesy, the quiet authority that suggested he didn’t tolerate betrayal.
“Oh, you’ll find several golf carts in your garage, and the keys are in them,” Mario added, gesturing toward the entry. “You are free to use any of them.”
He smiled again, that grandfatherly warmth that made her feel safe and welcome, and with a final nod, withdrew. The door clicked shut, and Kate was alone.
She stood in the kitchen as the kettle finished heating with a subtle click, and for the first time in weeks—months maybe—the stress knot in her chest began to unravel.
The silence wrapped around her: not the suffocating quiet of her apartment where failure hovered like a physical presence. This was peaceful. Restorative. The kind of silence that invited rest instead of demanding productivity.
She couldn’t help but smile as she poured the hot water over her tea leaves, watching them unfurl in the clear glass cup like tiny flowers blooming. The delicate, slightly sweet scent rose with the steam, and she breathed it in deeply.
This place felt like a haven. The chaos of the evening—Victoria’s cruelty, Lena’s fear, the confrontation—faded into memory, losing its sharp edges.
Tomorrow she would explore: see the water in daylight, settle into the office, and maybe—finally—find the words that had been eluding her for weeks.
Tomorrow she would start fresh.
But tonight... tonight she would let herself rest.