Page 16 of Captivated By You

“No need. Thank you, Kate. A cup of coffee wouldn’t go amiss, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Not at all. I’ll arrange it.”

“Thanks. I’ll be in Mr. Forster’s office.”

I settled myself behind his desk, and while the temptation was there to search his desk drawers, his filing cabinets, his computer for fuck knows what, instead, I opened my laptop and got busy.

First thing I did was review the resumes from the five interviews he’d held yesterday. I found Ethel’s easily—the only resume with a Chicago address. I stared at the contact details, neatly centered at the top of the first page.

My stomach flipped over.Kiana.I rolled my tongue around it. The name suited her far better than “Ethel,” although I’d miss that version of her, the funny, feisty woman from the bar.

I scanned the rest of her resume. Since leaving college with a degree in hospitality management, she’d secured a graduate role with a boutique hotel based in Chicago. But not long after her tenure had begun, she’d left, and ever since, she’d had five jobs in hospitality, mainly waiting tables.

Wonder what happened?Could have been something as simple as a reduction in workforce, I guessed, although to hire someone and then let them go a few short months later showed a complete lack of strategic foresight.

I added a note on my phone to do a little digging once I’d dealt with my own work issues.

On to Forster.

He’d joined the Kingcaid family eighteen months ago. He’d come from a rival global hotel chain where he’d worked for eight years, rising to the position of assistant manager. Kingcaid had been a promotion for him, and until my conversation with Kiana last night, there weren’t, from what I could glean from his HR file, any red flags or concerns about his conduct or his performance. He was clean. Squeaky clean.

Next, I opened the CCTV logs Priya had gotten from security. I whizzed through them, starting with the entrance to the hotel. At ten minutes after five yesterday, I spotted Kiana walk through the lobby. This time both my stomach and my dick lurched at the sight of her striding across the pristine Italian tile of my hotel. She conversed for a moment with the receptionist and then took a seat on one of the many couches scattered around the lobby.

At one minute before five thirty, Forster’s assistant, Trisha, approached and spoke to Kiana, who smiled and nodded and then followed Trisha, who took her, presumably, to Forster’s office.

I switched files, moving to the one that showed both the corridor outside his office and inside the office itself. And here was where things got weird.

The entire section was missing.

Like, gone. There were no files from four forty-five to six o’clock. I checked again, just to make sure I wasn’t seeing things, but no. There was no footage in Forster’s office during that time.

Fucking hell. I’d believed Kiana, but this… this added further credence to her story—and backed up her reluctance to go to the police. His word against hers. No evidence, and therefore, they’d take no further action.

Rage, not just on behalf of her, but on behalf ofallwomen who had to put up with this shit, raced through me. I felt it swell, like a geyser about to blow. I might not have the power to bring criminal charges against Forster, but I had many cards I could play to fuck with the man’s career.

And believe me, I would play them. Every single one.

I picked up the internal phone and dialed the concierge desk. “Curtis. Could you come to the manager’s office for a moment?”

I hung up. In less than a minute, my concierge tapped on the door, and I invited him in. “Take a seat, Curtis.”

“Is something wrong, Mr. Kingcaid?” He sat but fidgeted, running his hand over his tie several times.

No point in beating around the bush. “I need to ask you a question, and I expect one hundred percent honesty. You’re not in any trouble. Just don’t lie to me.”

“Of course not, Mr. Kingcaid.”

“Is there something I should know about how Mr. Forster is running my hotel?”

He squared his shoulders, and his eyes flared. Only for a second, but I caught it. I stared, unblinking, and waited.

Curtis swallowed. “I think it might be worth talking to Kate or Susan at reception. And Paula maybe.”

“Right.” Paula was responsible for housekeeping, so she’d have her ear to the ground. “Thanks, Curtis. You’ve been very helpful.”

I spent the next hour interviewing four female members of my staff. All of them took immense coaxing and lots of reassurance that they would not lose their jobs before they opened up to me. But once they did, I uncovered a culture of inappropriate comments and overt sexual overtures that made my blood boil. And despite my urging and promises of both financial and emotional support, not one of them agreed to speak with the police about their experiences.

As a man, I’d never had to deal with this shit, and so I wasn’t about to sit here and tell them what they should or shouldn’t do, or prattle on about sisterhood and sticking together. But what I could do was provide a safe and secure working environment for my employees and reassure them that nothing like this would ever happen again. Not if I had anything to do with it.

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