Chapter 9: The Video

By nine the next morning, four hundred people had seen me with my face in Thatcher Kincaid's coat.

Monique had posted the video in the hotel's staff chat.

It was fifteen seconds long.

The elevator doors opened, the flash went off, and there I was, rumpled, with his hand still on my wrist.

Under it, she had written: "So sweet! Congratulations, you two!" with a row of hearts.

Lacey held her phone up over the front desk.

"Four hundred people," she said. "Two hundred of them already replied with the hearts."

"That's nice of them."

"June. She posted it to the whole staff. This isn't nice. This is a campaign."

"She's a friend of the family."

"She's a friend of the family's camera," Lacey said.

I laughed. Then my desk phone rang.

"June, dear, it's Constance. Would you come up to my office?"

Constance's office was on the twenty-eighth floor, with a window and a very small desk.

She had tea waiting. She poured it herself.

"I saw the video," she said gently. "Monique sent it to me first."

"I can explain."

"You don't have to, dear. I was young once." She slid a folder across the desk. "I think this would be best for everyone."

I opened it.

It was a letter. Under it was a check.

"Twenty thousand dollars," Constance said.

"Severance, with a glowing reference to any hotel in the country."

"The board reads these chats, June. They'll ask questions. I'd rather you were somewhere kind when they do."

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