My Cousin Ordered Security to Throw Me Out of the Hotel I Own

“That you’re one of the best account leads I’ve managed.”

Her face twitched.

“That you handled pressure badly when Vantage started slipping.”

She looked down.

“That you made reporting decisions I should have stopped.”

Now she looked up.

“That I contributed to those decisions.”

Daniel swallowed.

“And that when the review started, I let you carry more responsibility than was yours because I was scared for my own job.”

Emily stared at him.

He continued before she could interrupt.

“I’ll tell them you resigned before anyone forced you to.”

“They gave me the option.”

“I’ll tell them that too.”

“You’d actually say all that?”

“If they ask.”

“That could hurt you.”

“Yes.”

The answer came quietly.

Emily sat down again.

For several seconds, she did nothing except turn the envelope over in her hands.

Then there was a knock on the door.

Priya opened it halfway.

“Sorry.”

She looked at me.

“They’re ready for the cake.”

Emily made a small sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan.

Priya looked at her.

“Do you want us to delay?”

Emily glanced at Daniel.

Then at me.

Then down at her dress.

“No.”

She stood and smoothed the fabric over her hips.

“Apparently a hundred people are waiting to sing at me.”

Priya smiled.

“That is more or less the situation.”

Emily reached for the door.

Then she stopped beside me.

“What happens with the payment?”

“We can reverse Daniel’s authorization and apply your twenty-three hundred.”

“And the rest?”

“We reduce what we discussed.”

“That still won’t cover it.”

“No.”

Her shoulders dropped slightly.

I thought about the deposit.

The extra guests.

The staff already working overtime.

The years I had spent refusing favors because favors were one of the ways struggling businesses quietly died.

Then I thought about what Robert had said outside.

I didn’t know anything about the last ten years of your life.

Maybe that failure had gone in both directions.

“I can put the remaining balance on a payment agreement,” I said.

Emily stared at me.

“You do that?”

“Not usually.”

“Then don’t do it because I’m family.”

“I’m not.”

That came out harsher than I meant.

Her face closed.

I corrected myself.

“I mean I’m not forgiving the charge.”

“Oh.”

“You pay it.”

“Monthly.”

“Yes.”

“With interest if you’re late.”

She nodded.

“Fine.”

“And you never tell anybody I got sentimental.”

A faint smile appeared.

“God forbid.”

I opened the door.

Emily stepped into the hallway, then turned back.

“Jake.”

“What?”

Her eyes flicked toward Priya, Daniel, then me.

“I’m sorry I called you a nobody.”

It was not the apology I had fantasized about for ten years.

She did not cry.

She did not deliver a speech.

She did not list every cruel thing she had ever said.

She looked embarrassed and tired and still slightly defensive.

Which made me believe her more.

“I know,” I said.

She waited.

I could see she wanted absolution.

I was not ready to give it.

“You should probably go let people sing to you.”

Her mouth tightened.

“Right.”

She walked toward the ballroom.

Daniel remained by the boardroom table.

Priya went back to work.

I followed Emily at a distance.

When the doors opened, applause rose around her.

She stopped for half a second.

Then the smile returned.

But this time, as she crossed toward the cake, it looked less like confidence than armor.

And now that I knew what it was protecting, I could not unsee it.

The applause broke around her before she reached the cake.

Someone started chanting her name.

A few people joined in badly, off rhythm and already tipsy enough not to care.

Emily laughed because that was what the room expected.

The expression fit her face almost perfectly.

Almost.

I stayed near the doors while the candles were lit.

There were thirty-two of them because apparently somebody on the planning committee had decided subtlety was for funerals.

By the time the last candle caught, wax was already beginning to drip down one side of the cake.

Trevor raised his phone.

“Speech.”

Emily pointed at him.

“No.”

“Speech.”

“Absolutely not.”

Other people took up the demand.

For the first time all night, she looked genuinely panicked.

Diane clapped along with them.

Robert did not.

He stood beside the dance floor with his hands in his pockets, watching his daughter as though he had just met someone he had known for thirty-two years.

Emily looked at me.

I had no idea what she expected.

Rescue, maybe.

I shook my head once.

Her eyes narrowed.

Then she turned toward the room.

“Okay.”

The chanting stopped.

She looked at the cake.

Then at all the faces gathered around it.

“I had a whole thing prepared.”

A few people laughed.

“I’m serious.”

She glanced toward one of her friends.

“Megan made me practice it twice.”

A woman near the front lifted her glass.

“Three times.”

“Traitor.”

More laughter.

Emily took a breath.

The room settled.

I could see the moment when she abandoned whatever polished remarks she had planned.

Her shoulders lowered.

“I’m not giving that speech.”

Nobody laughed this time.

She rubbed her thumb against the side of her champagne glass.

“I was going to thank everybody for coming, say something about how amazing this year has been, make a joke about getting older, and then pretend I wasn’t emotionally blackmailing all of you into complimenting me.”

That got a few smiles.

Emily looked toward the ceiling.

“This year has actually been terrible.”

The silence changed.

People glanced at one another.

Megan lowered her phone.