Page 150 of Illicit

Teagan leans into me and whispers, “I feel so out of place.”

My hand goes to the small of her back and my lips to her ear. “You think you feel out of place? Baby, I never knew this would be a reality for me. It feels like we stepped into an alternate universe. And I’ve never, as in fucking ever, let anyone else carry my bags before. I don’t recognize myself.”

We follow the porter to the check-in desk.

The Manor at Winslet.

Though, it’s not a manor in the sense it used to be when it was built more than a hundred years ago.

Reginald Benedict Winslet, III.

He’s a Brit who settled in the U.S. to hit it big in the gold rush. Reggie came from old money that funded his search for new money back in the day. He created such a stir in the region when he built this place that an entire community developed around him simply because everyone thought he knew something they didn’t. They wanted new money too. They even named the town after him.

Who doesn’t want money—new or old?

Spoiler alert, no gold for Winslet. He had no fucking clue what he was doing.

At least that’s what the internet told me when I searched this place.

But the manor still stands today and looks like it sits in the English countryside and not in the red, white, and blue.

Now it’s a resort overlooking Winslet Lake at the base of the mountains. It’s posh, booked out for eons, and so expensive, I doubt there’s another human on the property in my tax bracket—other than maybe the cabana boy.

If there is one. Taking in the place while riding up the long drive in the limo that picked us up at the airport, the cabana boy might have his own assistant.

“Welcome to The Manor at Winslet. My name is Felicity. I see you’re checking in. Your names?”

Teagan’s face lights up like it has every time someone asks that question since the big event two days ago. “Mr. and Mrs. Rocco Monroe.”

The woman behind the counter smiles and types at the speed of light into her sleek computer. “Ah! Honeymooners. Congratulations on your marriage. I see you are special guests of Bella Carson.”

“There’s no other way we’d be here,” I tell her the truth.

“I’ll say,” the woman agrees, but for different reasons. “We’re booked out for the next year, but Mr. Donnelly will do anything for his sister.”

“Mr. Donnelly?” Teagan asks.

“The owner. He bought The Manor a couple years ago, brought it back to its old glory, and made it into a resort.” Felicity stops typing and leans toward us to speak in a whisper. “Mr. Donnelly always keeps a few rooms on the side for occasions like this.”

“So that’s how Bella and Cole got a room.” Teagan looks up at me. “I hope they got the family discount. We’ll need to send them an extra special thank you note when we get home.”

“Here you go.” She hands us two key cards, as if I’m going to let Teagan out of my site the entire time we’re here. I take the keys and Teagan takes a folder. “And this will tell you all about Winslet. I do hope you enjoy our little bit of heaven on earth.”

I plan on keeping Teagan in bed and ordering room service the entire week.

Teagan starts to flip through the marketing material before I can pull her away from the desk. Her inner investigative curiosity comes out. “I want to see it all. Thank you!”

Well, never mind being in bed for a week. I guess we’re going to see it all.

I claim Teagan’s hand and move to the elevators. “Heaven on earth. That’s quite a claim.”

She reads while we walk. “I can’t believe Cole and Bella gifted us an entire honeymoon. That’s on top of our wedding at The Pink. I know it wasn’t a huge wedding, but Goldie really went overboard.”

I press the button. “Welcome to my world where my found family goes above and beyond to make up for the fact my given family is fucked up enough to fill an entire season of Dateline.”

She tucks the folder under her arm and leans into my chest. “They love you.”

I lean down and press my lips to hers. “They love us.”

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