Page 2 of The No Falling Rule
“Call paramedics!”
Hands grab her from mine. I drag myself out beside her, suit clinging like glue.
“What the fuck happened?” Of course—my father’s voice. Loud. Commanding. Every staff member within twenty feet straightens.
Before I can explain, a woman comes running, frantic. “Mia!”
She drops to her knees beside the girl—Mia—who’s coughing but awake.
Then the woman turns on me like a storm. “You! You knocked her in!”
I hold up my hands. “I’m truly sorry. It was a silly accident.”
“A silly accident?” she snaps. “My sister’s luggage is ruined! Her clothes are ruined! We’ve been here five minutes!”
Dad steps in, calm and authoritative. “Okay, let’s take a step back. I’m truly sorry you and your sister had to experience such a shocking event on the first day of your holiday, but let me assure you it was not intentional.”
The sister blinks, taken aback by his polished diplomacy. I’ve seen him calm furious guests, politicians, and crying brides with that same tone. Her gaze darts from him to me a couple of times. She’s weighing his words, and I’m not sure she’s going to let us off the hook so easily. I know tourists on a budget—they try to get free stuff whenever they can. And this is a prime opportunity for a complimentary hotel stay, if I’ve ever seen one.
“Are you okay?” my other brother, Fernando, asks me.
I nod, not able to form words.
“Fuck, I was just calling you to see if you wanted company,” he says, releasing a breath through his teeth. “I didn’t think something like this was going to happen. Imagine if she dies. We’ll be in so much shit.”
“Quiet, Fernando. No one is going to die,” Mom admonishes as she comes to stand beside me.
When I glance at Mia, she’s already sitting up, towel around her shoulders, eyes downcast.
She’s soaked. Shaking. But her voice is steady when she says, “I’m okay. Just embarrassed. I think a good cup of tea and some dry clothes will bring me back up to speed.”
It’s a soft, warm voice—Southern, maybe. I shouldn’t notice that.
“You should still get checked,” I say, kneeling to meet her eyes. “Please.”
She looks at me, brows drawn, lips parted slightly. Her gaze lingers longer than I expect. “Fine,” she says. “Check.”
Her skin is ashen, maybe due to the lack of oxygen. But besides her skin color, I can see so much beauty in her. The most perfectly curled lashes frame a pair of brown, almond-shaped eyes. Her bottom lip is plump, and the cupid’s bow on her top lip is perfect—it makes me want to kiss her.
Fucking hell. Why am I such an asshole? She could’ve died, and I’m here thinking about kissing her?
The paramedics arrive and conduct their tests—no concussion, no injuries. As they help her up, I offer my hand for balance. Her fingers are small and cold against mine.
“Let me walk you to Guest Services,” I say. “We’ll get you new clothes. Maybe ones that dry faster.”
That earns me a breath of laughter. “Is that a common amenity?”
“Only for VIPs.”
Her smile widens, and something low in my chest tightens.
Inside, my father is already at the desk. “Move them to Bungalow Six. Oceanfront. Send a wardrobe.”
I’m shocked my father gave them my bungalow, but I just nod at the attendant, then at Mia. “They’ll handle everything.”
She studies me. “Are you… the owner?”
I tilt my head. “Depends on who’s asking.”
