Chapter eleven
Kynsleigh
That day, when I got home, I planned on reaching out to Merge, no matter the consequences. Even if he wanted nothing to do with me, Mysun deserved more than what we were living through. My precious baby shouldn’t have to navigate a childhood filled with struggles while his father continued to bask in comfort and privilege. At just three months old, he was already reliant on generic formula, stretched diapers, and whatever I could piece together from sale racks and survival mode.
I pulled into the parking lot of the sprawling hotel. With a deep breath, I grabbed my work bag from the passenger seat and dragged my weary body through the employee entrance. The familiar scent of polished marble and faint hints of fresh coffee greeted me as I stepped into the lobby, but it wasn’t long before I sensed the tension in the air.
A group of distressed guests stood huddled in a corner, whispering hurriedly amongst themselves, their faces drawn with concern. At the front desk, one of my coworkers looked on the verge of tears, her hands fidgeting anxiously with her nametag. I noticed that the eyes of several other employees were flickering nervously toward the executive hallway, where big decisions and even bigger personalities usually loomed.
I slowed my steps just in time for my favorite coworker, Reyna, to grab my arm.
“Girrrrrrrrrl! The big dawg is here!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide with equal parts excitement and fear.
“The big dawg?” I repeated, raising my brows.
“Merge Belvior, girl! His family owns this entire hotel chain. He usually keeps a low profile, but whenever he shows up, somebody is about to get fired, embarrassed, or escorted out carrying their belongings in a trash bag.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “I heard he’s the reason the rooftop bar even exists.”
“Oh.”
Yup. I worked at one of my baby daddy’s hotels.
Unbeknownst to Reyna, that wasn’t news to me. Granted, I’d never seen him at the hotel before, but I damn sure hadn’t expected that day to be the first time.
“He came in hot!” Reyna continued enthusiastically. “He’s in the conference room lighting Daniel’s ass up! I don’t know what’s going on, but bay-bee…”
Reyna didn’t even have to finish the sentence. That man’s presence had the whole damn building rattled.
Daniel, one of the managers, was a figure who no one liked—among both staff and guests—though everyone tolerated him simply because they had to.
Without hesitation, I ducked behind the decorative half-wall near the elevator, pulling Reyna with me as if we were spies on a covert mission.
“You’re hiding?” she teased, her smirk playful.
“Just—uh—I don’t want him to think Ipurposelyforgot to clock out last Thursday."
It was a lie, of course, but she bought it.
The conference room’s door was cracked just wide enough for Merge’s booming voice to roll out like thunder.
“Let me get this straight,” he snapped, his tone sharp and unforgiving. “You gave away the penthouse suite to a goddamn YouTuber… after I personally put it on reserve for a silent investor flying in from Dubai?”
Daniel stammered, “Sir, I didn’t realize! He said—”
“You didn’t realize?” Merge repeated, scoffing, cutting him off. “What you didn’t realize was that you cost us a seven-figure investment! We were supposed to seal the deal over drinks in that suite tonight, and now the man’s flying back across the fuckin’ ocean because he thinks we’re a joke and a hotel that can’t honor its own reservations!”
There was a loud bang. Either that was Merge’s hand slamming the table or Daniel’s spine was giving out under pressure.
“Also,” Merge continued, “you werepersonallytold that room 2403 had a plumbing issue, but you still let a VIP check into it during a sold-out convention.”
“Sir, it was the last suite available. There weren’t any other options in the system.”
“Exactly,” Merge snapped. “Which is why that muthafucka should’ve never made it into the system. You mark it unavailable until maintenance clears it. You don’t hand somebody a key and hope the toilet decides to respect company policy.”
Reyna whispered, “Damn.”
“I heard the bathroom flooded while his little fling was in the shower,” I murmured, recalling the gossip that had spread through the staff earlier.
“You checked a Forbes contributor into a suite with a damaged waste line,” he said, his voice dropping into something cold anddangerous. “That man paid five-star prices and woke up to his bathroom looking like the sewer system filed for visitation.”
