Page 17 of Captivated By You

After dealing with Forster, I’d call a meeting of the board, and we’d fix this issue once and for all.

And then, my sweet Kiana, I’m coming for you.

Chapter7

Kiana

Always listen to your mom.

“Kiana,the mailman is here. He needs you to sign for something.”

Mom’s voice blasted up to my bedroom. I rolled off the bed, yanked open my bedroom door, and trudged downstairs, frowning. “I’m not expecting anything. What is it?”

“How on earth would I know?” She rolled her eyes at the man standing on the doorstep. “Kids.”

“Hardly a kid.” I scrawled my signature and took the letter. My heart tripped as my eyes fell on the logo, then plummeted to my feet.

Kingcaid Hotels.

Great. No need to open that.

I tossed it onto the hall table and moseyed into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee.

“Aren’t you going to open it?” Mom shouted from the hallway.

“What’s the point? It’s your standard-issue rejection letter.” I huffed a laugh. “I suppose the process has to be seen to be done. Bet details of that jerk feeling me up aren’t in the interview notes.”

I felt Mom bristle as she joined me in the kitchen. The second I’d walked through the door yesterday afternoon after arriving home, I’d spilled every detail about my disastrous trip to Seattle.

Okay, noteverydetail. Just the parts relating to my interview. She’d urged me to go to the police, and I’d told her the same as I’d told Ant: no point. They’d question that Forster douche. He’d deny it. Case closed. What was the point in putting myself through that?

“I still think you should report it.”

“I know you do.” I spooned coffee into the paper filter and flicked on the machine, dropping the spoon into the sink. Mom bustled over and put it in the dishwasher, huffing.

“Men like him shouldn’t get away with it.”

“That’s just it, though, Mom. They do. All the time.”

“Even more reason to report him.”

I’d heard these arguments a gazillion times. Most women had, including Mom, no doubt. But I was a pragmatist at heart. If I had anything concrete on that guy, I’d drag him through the courts to the bitter end. Fact was, though, that I didn’t. Unless the hotel had security footage or something. Even if they did, I’d need a court order to gain access to it, and… ugh, I couldn’t face navigating the legal system. I’d rather just forget it and move on.

“Drop it, Mom. Please.” I grabbed half and half from the fridge. “It’s done. Tomorrow, I’ll get off my ass and mail out my resume to a thousand other companies, but for now, I just want to wallow in self-pity and drink coffee.”

“At least it isn’t gin.” Mom chuckled.

“I’m saving the gin for later. As depressing as my life is, I’ve not quite reached the point of drinking in the mornings yet.”

Mom gave me a hug. “I think you should open the letter.”

“I told you. It’s the standard-issue rejection.”

“Then why would they have sent it by special delivery?”

I narrowed my eyes. “That is an excellent point.” I returned into the hall and snatched up the letter, Mom hot on my heels. Sliding my thumbnail underneath the flap, I removed a single sheet of thick, cream paper.

“What does it say?”

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