Page 49 of Shattered Veil

Looks like we’re staying in a local hotel.

We drive to the nearest one with a great rating and find the check-in line fills the lobby. The highway closure means every other stranded motorist is looking for a room, too.

Trace talks on his phone and keeps an eye out since this place hasn’t been scoped out for a stop. I don’t expect anyone here to know who I am, let alone want to hurt me. Unless I act like an asshole and bully my way to the front of the line and make parents with crying babies sleep in their cars by demanding three rooms.

We finally get to the check-in desk, and the clerk is sweating. “Can I help you?”

“I need two rooms. I have two employees with me.” I hand over my driver’s license with a one-hundred-dollar bill behind it.

The guy, who’s young and clean-cut, pulls his tie and says, “I only have rooms with a king bed. We’re keeping the two queen rooms for families. We’re all out of cribs and roll-away beds.”

I blink, taking that in. “The one-bed rooms are fine.”

The guy processes everything and hands me the keycards. “We’re ordering pizzas and warm food platters for everyone. They should be set up here in the lobby in a little while.”

Nodding, I say, “Thank you.”

I strut toward Trace who’s clearly guarding Ella for me.

She’s on her phone but hangs up when I get closer. “I spoke to my dad and told him we were staying the night.”

I freeze, hearing her mention her dad. “Did you tell him which hotel?”

She casually shakes her head. “He didn’t ask.”

“Did you tell him about the State Trooper pulling usover and the flat?”

“No. Just that the highway is shut down.”

Her father hasn’t called or messaged me. His daughter is an adult, and she works for me. He has no idea about Los Angeles, and hopefully hasn’t tracked my credit cards to find out which hotel I’m in. Or that I’m registered in two rooms, each with one bed.

Now, either I look like a bossy perv and shove Trace in a room by himself so I can be with Ella, my assistant, or I attempt to share a bed with a six-five ex-Irish Defences alpha.

“I’m sorry,” Ella says, sounding guilty and it guts me.

“You didn’t cause the snowstorm,” I tell her with a hand firmly on her waist. “This isn’t your fault.”

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t be here if my father hadn’t forced you to hire me.” She gazes out at the snow quickly piling up.

I hate the pain in her eyes from thinking she’s caused this problem I have.

Is it a problem?

Either I make her sleep alone, with me, or with Trace. Fuck this, Ineeda third room.

Angry over this impossible choice, I turn back to the front desk, but a manager gets on a loudspeaker and says, “Folks, I’m sorry. There are no more rooms. We’re full up.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Ella

“Here.” Balor hands Trace and me packaged toothbrushes and travel-size toothpaste tubes from the gift shop.

“I keep a set in my purse.” I wave it off and hope he returns it so someone else can use it. Or gives it away.

I started keeping them on me the first time Wes locked me out of the house. I rode the subway for hours a few times, waiting for him to cool off.

I’d been too embarrassed to crash on Hannah’s sofa. I didn’t dare go home to my dad, who would have seen bruises and flipped out.