Protecting Her Read online

  Protecting Her

  Holly Jaymes

  Copyright © 2019 by Holly Jaymes

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Author’s Note

  About Holly James

  Also by Holly Jaymes

  Chapter 1

  Siena

  I glared at the group of twenty-somethings sitting around the table in my office. Most of them had their heads turned down, presumably because, they were ashamed of the work they had turned in. They had every reason to be ashamed. I knew I would have been ashamed if I was in their place. They had left out the key elements of a three thousand word story for the magazine, and not just any magazine, the top travel magazine in the country. I had a responsibility to make sure that the article was in top shape for publication.

  “Seriously, guys, this will not do,” I said and shook my head as I took in a deep breath. I had made the call to assign the three of them, to work on the centerfold feature on the top ski resorts in the country, and so their failure now was on me. I was fuming because I was disappointed in my team and disappointed in myself for trusting them. I had wanted to give them an opportunity to prove themselves. I remembered what it felt like to be a young, starry-eyed writer in my early twenties, and I was grateful that my editors had given me the chance to prove myself. It was what had made me into the journalist I was today.

  “We tried to get a hold of him, but its impossible to get a meeting,” Jonah, the redhead guy who was good with research, declared. Apparently, he wasn’t as good with research as I thought!

  “It sounds a hell of a lot like a pitiable excuse to me,” I snapped. Then I quickly realized that I was now beginning to sound like my boss, Harvey. He was the editor of the magazine, who I had worked under for the past four years. Now, I had the position as a sub-editor, which at thirty was a pretty big feat, and I was beginning to sound like him.

  “We have all the others on the list,” Marie spoke up. I shot her a warning look.

  “You guys have interviews from five of the top ski resorts in the country, but not Salthill Peak, the best one. How do you think it’s going to make us look when this magazine goes to print?” I barked, and I could see the group visibly shrink into their seats as they tried to avoid my eyes.

  “Salthill Peak has been losing traction in the last decade, Sienna. It used to be the poster child for Aspen a few years ago, but according to my sources, people now prefer the more modern ski resorts over it,” Jonah spoke again, and I arched my eyebrows at him.

  “Which means, that as journalists, it was supposed to be your duty to find out why it started doing so badly in recent years, not leave it out of our article completely!” I said, and I stood up from my chair with a jerk. The three of them were still avoiding my eyes, Paula hadn’t even spoken yet.

  “Paula?” I barked at her, and she shrugged and shifted in her seat.

  “We all tried getting in touch with the owner, Siena. They refused to give us any interviews or allow us to speak to their staff. We’re very sorry,” she said and looked up at me finally with puppy dog eyes.

  It was going to be very difficult to train these kids to be good journalistic writers with this attitude, I thought. If I were in their position, back when I was still doing the groundwork for reports, I would have… There was a knock on my door which interrupted my thoughts.

  “Siena, Harvey wants to see you in his office,” my secretary, Sanya, had appeared at the door.

  I shot a look at the three of them, who were sitting slumped on their chairs now. Harvey wasn’t going to give them a piece of his mind, this article was my responsibility, which meant that I would have to be the one facing the brunt for it.

  Gathering myself, and keeping my chin up, I walked out of my office, down the busy hallways of the floor and knocked on Harvey’s door. When he asked me to come in, I did so and shut the door behind me, preparing myself for the onslaught of choice words which I knew he was going to throw at me.

  “Siena, I wonder if you realize that we’re a travel magazine,” Harvey began, leaning back on his chair with his fingers steepled.

  “Harvey, look, I was just in there, talking to the team…” I began to scramble for a way out, but he was already shaking his head. I could see the rough drafts of the article spread out in front of him on the table.

  “What good is that going to do? We are scheduled to go to print in a week! The centerfold article, the big report on the top six ski resorts in the country has Salthill Peak missing from it!” he was barking at me, and I had no other choice but to wait and allow him to have his say.

  “I know what you’re saying, and I spoke to the team. They’ve tried their best to get an interview with the owners or to talk to the staff. They're keeping a low profile, and shunning reporters and journalists,” I argued, and Harvey was shaking his head in disappointment.

  “That sounds like a shit excuse to me,” he said as I gulped, realizing that he had just echoed what I had barked at the team. I nodded my head, in full agreement with him.

  “These guys at Salthill Peak, not very long ago, were the cream of the crop. They entertained celebrities and European royalty and had exclusive rates which people like you and I would never be able to afford. Their status might have dropped in recent years, but as journalists, it’s our responsibility to find out why,” Harvey was lecturing me, and I nodded my head. He had the same thoughts as me, but I didn’t have a solution.

  “Yes, I agree with you completely, Harvey. I wish that I had taken on this article myself. I shouldn’t have left it up in the hands of novices,” I said, in a quiet, respectful voice and Harvey took in a deep breath. I could see the disappointment in his eyes, and even though I had worked closely with him for four years and I knew that he believed in me, I was also aware that he wouldn’t think twice about firing me from the position if he felt that I was doing a lousy job.

  “What would you have done if this was up to you? You’ve worked as an investigative journalist before, Siena, how would you have used your skills for a story like this?” Harvey insisted. My eyes seemed to light up. Was he giving me an opportunity to mend my mistakes? I licked my lips and squared my shoulders.

  “I would have gone to the resort myself, dug around for a story, tried to talk to the staff and the owners and write a story based on my experience there,” I declared, and to my surprise, a soft smile had started to tug the corners of Harvey’s mouth.

  “That’s my girl!” he said and threw himself back in his large leather swivel chair.

  “But we barely have any time. We have a week until we go to print,” I said, and Harvey shrugged.

  “When has that ever stopped you from chasing after a story? Don’t lose that spark that I admire in you. I believe that you can get this report done in a week. I’m going to count on you and make sure we have a thousand words left empty in the centerfold for your story,” Harvey said. I could feel a weight drawing my shoulders down as he spoke. This was a huge responsibility, and I was both anxious a
nd excited at the same time.

  “Siena?” he urged me when I hadn’t spoken in a while. I looked up at him, with my eyes sparkling and my heart beating a mile a minute in my chest.

  “Guess I’m going to Aspen then!” I said and bit down on my lip.

  Chapter 2

  Ivan

  It was early morning. Dawn had just broke, and it cast a dull orange glow in the sky. It was my favorite time of the day, giving me a chance to survey my territory in silence.

  Salthill Peak was beautiful in September. The chill in the air was just right before the weather got harsh in October when ski season started. Now, just before the first snow, the air was fresh and sweet, and everywhere I turned, I could see the signs of snow coming.

  It was quiet up here, where my grandfather had built our very first resort sixty years ago. Even though Aspen was known the world over as a ski town, and people from everywhere visited in ski season, Salthill Peak was relatively devoid of crowds. My family had managed to maintain its exclusive status for decades, and people from all around the world scrambled to secure a booking.

  Things had changed now though, and the truth was that we had nobody to blame but father.

  I shook my head and tried to push those thoughts out of my head. I needed to focus on our business and what we had now. Salthill Peak was the first resort our family had built, and now it was the last one left standing after all these years.

  The ones that grandfather had built in Austria, and the one father had acquired in Switzerland all had a good run, but we had to sell them eventually. It was no secret that business wasn’t as great as it used to be. Our money had dwindled over the years because of bad investments, and when I took over, I realized that it was hard to get investors to pump in money, and there was a very specific reason for that.

  Father had a reputation. He had carefully cultivated a reputation in the industry for being a mean, inhospitable business owner who drove away guests from his ski resorts because of high-handed service and the lack of warmth. Not only that but the few investors we used to have hated working with him as well. Father was a hothead, made rash investment decisions and the truth was that our guests didn’t enjoy staying at our resorts anymore.

  When he brought me into the company, right after high school, he had forcibly moved me to Switzerland to live and work with him. I quickly realized the reality of the situation and how much my father preferred his drink over making his business successful. My grandfather’s famous legacy of Salthill Peak and his subsequent resorts were quickly dying, and my father’s lousy business sense and his rude attitude towards investors were responsible for it.

  I drew in a deep breath now, filling my lungs with the fresh early morning mountain air. A gust of cold wind blew into my face, and I could feel it pinching my skin, but I didn’t care. I liked it.

  I had dedicated my whole life to our family business. Whatever dreams I had of being an Engineer were quickly squashed right after high school because father claimed that he needed my help. However, when I got to Switzerland, I realized that all father needed was a figurehead, so he could drink during the day as much as he wanted. He never approved any new ideas or suggestions I had for the business, and so I could do nothing but stand back and watch as he started selling resort after resort to fund his luxurious lifestyle until we had nothing left other than Salthill Peak.

  But father was ill now. He stayed in a wheelchair in one room in our cabin here, and he spent his days cooped up in that room every day. At thirty, it was finally my chance now to run the business the way I had always intended to. I had even managed to invite a group of potential investors to the resort, hoping to impress them and get them to invest so that I could begin building the business up again.

  It would be tricky business. Father’s reputation had traveled wide and far, and even though these men had agreed to meet with me, there was still a high chance that they would not be interested in parting with any of their money. Father was known notoriously as a spendthrift and a lousy businessman, without a stable family life and in possession of a starkly dark temper. All these things were enough to drive any investor away from a family business. It was now going to be up to me to impress these men and make them believe that I was not my father and I had plans of running the business very differently.

  It was up to Cora and me now, my five-year-old daughter, to create a picture of a stable family. Cora’s mother, Anna, and I hadn’t spoken in close to four years. We had a brief affair in Engelberg in Switzerland, while she worked as a receptionist at our old resort, but when we sold the property and decided to move back to Colorado, Anna had no interest in accompanying us. Cora was the least of her problems, and I knew it was for the best. Towards Anna, I had felt nothing but lust, and she was only one in a long string of women I had been with since the day I turned sixteen. None of them had meant anything to me, and especially not now that I had Cora.

  I walked around the deserted resort, realizing that all the guest cabins were empty. When was the last time we had a booking this year? The expenses and maintenance costs were high, and there was no money coming in at all. These issues were all a recipe for disaster.

  I knew that if somehow I could secure an investment in the following days, I would have enough money to renovate the place, hire more staff, get the activities up and running and hopefully have the resort up in top shape again for the ski season. Everything now depended on my meeting with the visiting investors, and I was determined to make a deal, at whatever cost.

  Chapter 3

  Siena

  I couldn’t get over how beautiful Salthill Peak was. I had arrived at the resort less than an hour ago, booking flights and a cabin at the place within a few hours of my meeting with Harvey. Given that it wasn’t ski season yet, the cabins were readily available and didn’t cost as much it would have if I had booked in October, although it still did cost a fortune. The way I was looking at it was that I was on a mission to save my job and to make sure that my editor still believed in me.

  Salthill Peak was serene and quiet, and even though I had never been to a ski resort before, I could smell first snow in the air. It was coming, I could feel it in my bones, and I stood at the window of my cabin and looked out at the expanse of the resort.

  The place was empty when I arrived, and I hadn’t spoken to anyone here yet other than the receptionist. Given that the resort looked like it had no other guests except me, and after seeing the massive patch of water on the ceiling of the reception hall, I had a feeling that the rumors about a dwindling business might be true after all.

  The receptionist had shown me to my cabin, and in silence, I unpacked the one bag I carried, into the closet in my room. The cabin was cozy. The wood floors creaked a little, but I didn’t mind. It was the perfect getaway for anyone looking to escape, and for someone like me, who had spent the last decade living in the hustle and bustle of New York City, Salthill Peak seemed like heaven. It was hard to imagine why and how they weren’t making as much money as they used to. It seemed to me like anybody, with the money to spend, would have chosen this ski resort over any other in a heartbeat. However, it was my task now, to find out what the reason behind the failing business was and there was no way I was leaving this place without a story.

  I had managed to get here, so that was one hurdle crossed. Now, I would have to find a way to talk to the staff. Did they even have other staff besides the receptionist? Maybe I could even bag an interview or meeting with the owner. Jonah had given me very little information about the owner of the resort, saying that they were completely shrouded in mystery.

  While I stood at the window, it started snowing, and my heart leaped. Snow in Salthill Peak seemed different, more serene and white and clean. The way it fell peacefully and noiselessly on the ground outside, covering it in a soft blanket of white, made me want to run out and make snow angels! It was somehow bringing out the child in me, and I didn’t resist the smile that was forming on my face.

 
I didn’t even know how long I had been standing there, watching the snow, only interrupted now when I saw a small girl walking up towards the cabin, carrying a plastic bucket in her hand. She even had a toy shovel in her other hand, which she now started using to shovel snow into her bucket.

  It was a curious sight, especially since I had assumed that there were no other guests at the resort except for me. With an irresistible urge to join the little girl outside, I grabbed a scarf and tied it around my neck, before leaving the cabin.

  She was crouched on the ground, still shoveling snow childishly into her bucket when I approached her from behind. She turned and looked up at me with big bright blue eyes. Her hair was flaxen pale, papery thin and tied in two small pigtails on the top of her head. There was something European looking about her, and I couldn’t help but be drawn to her. She seemed so calm and casual, as she remained hunched there on the ground like this was her home.

  “Hi, there!” I called out to her, and the girl looked at me again, her blue eyes brightening.

  “What have you got there?” I asked. The girl smiled broadly.

  “I’m collecting snow. Later I will make ice cream,” she said, and I noticed the German accent in her voice. She was speaking in fluent English but had a German tone as well.

  “You’re going to use this snow to make ice cream? That sounds lovely!” I said and crouched down in front of her, amused by her serious effort.

  “Are you living here now?” she asked, and I pointed at the cabin behind us and nodded my head.