Page 96 of Wrong Room, Right Billionaire

But I’m not okay. I’m not okay with any of this. The crowd. The switch up. The inconvenience.

It’s all getting out of control, and if I had to guess, Conrad is behind more of it than we originally thought.

“I’m going to sit down,” Scarlett says, heading with her bag over to the edge of the fountain in the middle of the room. Meanwhile, we turn our attention back to the desk, which is now being manned by Max, the manager of the resort.

“I’m so sorry for the inconvenience, Mr. Bale,” he says. “I don’t know how it wasn’t prevented.”

“I do,” Donovan mutters, and I know too.

“We do have a couple of bookings made in the last hour that don’t have full confirmation yet. If you want, I can cancel one of them and–”

“No,” I say. “If anyone finds out that I kicked a guest to the curb for my own benefit, I’ll never hear the end of it. And between all the oglers and my brother, people will find out.”

“What would you like to do?” Donovan asks, and I bite my lip for a moment.

“There is another option,” Max offers. “While it’s not ideal, it would provide somewhat of a solution.”

“Name it,” I tell him. Because at this point I’m stuck. If I boot someone out of their room, it looks bad and Conrad wins. If I leave and head to the next hotel, Conrad wins. No matter what, it looks bad. Hail Mary’s are all I have right now.

“The Island Sun has multiple suites available,” Max says, and Donovan barks out a laugh.

“Are you actually suggesting that the owner of Bale Resorts stay at a sister hotel?!”

And while it does sound bad, I don’t completely hate the idea. Several of our more popular resorts are partnered with Garrett Resorts, a company that my father decided to work with in case things like this happened. During peak seasons, when rooms run out, my father thought it would be better for guests who wanted to stay at Bale to stay at a sister hotel than at another brand entirely. The perk of these hotels is that any of the restaurants, spas, and pools are open to the guests at the sister hotel too.

“The E-suite at Island Sun is actually one of the most secluded, with a private hot tub, priority room service, and private beach access, as well as extended hours for the pool.”

“Unbelievable,” Donovan mutters, but I have to be honest. The words private and secluded sound nothing short of ideal right now. Between the storm in the Bahamas and the crowd here, I’d stay at a motel if it meant having some breathing room.

“You know what? It’s fine,” I say. “It might actually be bet–”

“Is Scarlett okay?” Donovan interrupts, and my attention whips over to her. She’s still sitting on the edge of the fountain, and people are staring, taking photos, and gasping.

That’s when I notice her shoulders heaving, kind of in the way you would shudder if you were crying but more dramatically. Immediately my gut sours, and I know something is wrong.

“Mom, there’s a lady throwing up in the fountain!” A boy behind us in line says, while tugging on his mom’s shirt and pointing at Scarlett.

Donovan, Max, and I all rush to her at the same time. Scarlett looks up at us, completely mortified.

“I’m sorry,” she says, wiping her lip. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what got into me. If it’s just too hot or–”

“Security, I need a medic by the fountains, ASAP,” Max says into a walkie, but Scarlett shakes her head, her eyes widening.

“No, I’m okay. I don’t want to cause a scene,” she begs. “Did you get us a room?”

“We have a room,” I tell her, scooping her up in my arms. Meanwhile, Donovan grabs her bags.

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk to the medic?” Max asks, his eyes filled with panic. Between him and the girl at the desk, I bet they think they’re going to be fired. Obviously, they’re not. This shitstorm is the fault of only one person. Someone I will deal with accordingly. After I make sure Scarlett is okay.

“I’m okay, really,” Scarlett insists as I lay her on the bed of the suite at the Island Sun. “I’m pretty sure it was just the chaos of it all,”

“You’re still going to be evaluated by a medic,” I insist. “Donovan is getting them now.”

“I was just a little anxious,” she argues.

“A little anxious?” I echo. “You threw up in a fountain.”

Scarlett covers her face. “I did. And I’m sure it will be all over social media too,” she sighs.