Page 48 of Dr. Weston

“Yes. I’m thrilled to be here. It’s been on my bucket list for years.”

“Good, good. Well, enjoy yourself. Let us know if you need anything.”

The friendly, attentive server walks off, leaving me with an ear-to-ear grin. This place is absolutely incredible. It would’ve been one thing if the hospital had offered to put us up at a chain hotel along the waterfront. But this is amazing.

As I continue my meal, I have the oddest sense someone is watching me. Looking about the dining area, I don’t see anyone out of the ordinary. The staff is so overly attentive, I’m sure that’s all it is—watching in order to anticipate your every need, that and being at this phenomenal resort all alone. I feel as if I stick out like a sore thumb. But I’m not letting those fears get to me this week.

After finishing my amazing meal, I casually stroll back to the front desk to see if my room is ready. Again, that odd feeling returns. Yet, there’s no one that seems out of place. There are a few men dressed in black that look as if they do security for the resort, but otherwise, nothing seems amiss.

“Hi, Shayna. Lunch was simply incredible. By any chance is my room ready?”

“Oh, yes. We put a rush on it. Let me escort you there.”

Shayna takes me to the elevator, pointing out various amenities along the way. We walk to the end of a corridor, and it strikes me that there’s no sound. I’ve seen no other people, not even room service trays or dishes outside of any of the rooms. Their housekeeping staff must be top notch.

“Here we are.” Shayna opens the door and waves me in to one of the most luxurious rooms I’ve ever seen. It’s like something from one of those life of the rich and famous travel shows. The room is appointed in rich mahogany wood furniture. The massive king size bed is covered in an inviting white duvet. There’s a lower level to the room, with a comfy couch and table, perfect for reading. But the showstopper is the oceanfront balcony. I push open the glass doors and inhale the sea air.

“This is unbelievable, Shayna.”

“I’m so glad you like it.” She has to hear this a lot. “The mini fridge is fully stocked with water, juice, and soda, and a bar menu is beside the coffee station. Please fill it out, letting us know your wine or beer preferences.

I turn to her, my mouth ajar.

She giggles. “Your keys are on the counter. Please feel free to contact me at the front desk if there’s anything at all you need. Your butler should stop by each evening to restock the fridge.”

“My what?”

“Your butler, ma’am.”

Plopping down on the end of the bed, I’m starting to wonder if this really is a dream.

“You are staying in one of our top-of-the-line suites.” She smiles. “Your bag is already in the closet. I’ll let you get settled.”

I stand in complete disbelief as Shayna exits the room. Now I’m sure of it.

I’m never going to want to leave.

CHAPTERSEVENTEEN

BROADIE

“Has she made it here, okay?” I’ve tried to keep my mind occupied on my work, but it’s impossible. About two hours ago, I went to Stu’s suite to inquire whether Poppy had arrived at the Kingston airport and found he had a car trailing her van. As I kept my eyes trained on the monitor, it was like watching a tin can bounce down a barely paved street. There was no way I was putting her through a two-hour ride in that thing.

Porter and Stu quickly jumped into action, sending a town car to meet her. Initially, they’d encouraged sticking with the normal transportation hired by the hotel, but I couldn’t stand it any longer.

You’re going to have to be careful. If you upgrade too many things, she’s going to get suspicious.Stu had said. Porter and Stu both recommended I lay low today, and I fear they might be right. I’m too anxious and would likely blow my cover. So now that she’s here, I’ll bide my time before making my presence known. Then any future spoiling she receives, she’ll know comes directly from me.

“Is she all checked in?”

“Yes, sir,” Porter answers. I can practically feel his eye roll from here. “Go have a drink, Dr. Weston. Everything’s fine.”

In the short time I’ve been at the resort, I’ve probably had more to drink than I’ve had in the last two months. Between the hot weather, the relaxed atmosphere, and the fact the drinks are all included, they seem to be offered up to guests at a fevered pace. Luckily, alcohol has never been a vice. I enjoy a good scotch or a glass of wine, but when I’m stressed and need an escape, it’s usually the gym or a good hard fuck that do the trick.

“I think I’ll hit the gym, Porter. Then I might grab an early dinner and finish the rest of these charts.”

Porter shakes his head. “Just what I’d be doing on vacation.”

Again, he’s right. But I have a hard time letting go of my responsibilities long enough to truly relax. Add to it I’ve set this ruse into motion, and I’m not entirely sure I can pull this off. Working may offer the distraction I need so I don’t do something crazy.Not that I can think of much that can top this.

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