Page 1 of Spring Break with a Bodyguard
ONE
THEODORA “TEDDY” HOLLISTER
“Three weeks,”Preston Hollister announces, exasperation evident in his voice as his younger brother Brogan stares at him, surprised. “I’ll give you three weeks, Teddy, and that’s it.”
I stare at my cousin in shock. At thirty-four, Preston is one of Love Beach’s richest men, running his family’s hotel empire with an iron fist. Yet he just agreed to one of my ridiculous requests to start from the bottom of the ladder in the Hollister hotel empire.
And I mean, thebottom.
Not the main administrative offices where he’d initially assigned me to follow Charles Danforth III like a puppy as he droned on about assistant manager duties. No, I mean the bottom.
Housekeeping.
“Teddy, are you sure about this?” Brogan asks, his voice a mix of concern and disbelief, his arms crossed across his broad chest. “Housekeeping isn’t exactly... well, it’s not what we had in mind for you.”
I take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of leather and polished wood that permeates Preston’s office. “I brought a PR nightmare to your doorstep when I triple-raised the leases to Seaside Square during the holiday season—of all times.” My voice catches as I remember the headlines. “It reminded me that I really don’t know much about the business.”
“That’s why you’ve been shadowing Charlie for the last three months,” Preston says, frowning. “That’s how you’ll learn how our local hotels run... not by working in housekeeping.”
“But that’s the thing, Preston,” I lean forward in my chair. “After shadowing Charlie all this time, I realized I don’t want to just learn how the hotels run from a managerial perspective. I want to understand every aspect, from the ground up.”
The room falls silent, the only sound the faint ticking of the antique clock on Preston’s desk. Their gazes weigh on me, heavy with skepticism.
“Teddy,” Preston says, his voice softening. “I understand you want to make amends, but this... this is extreme. You’re a Hollister?—”
“ApoorHollister,” I add. “Aunt Elaine has been supporting my mother and me for years. I know about the money she sent that Mom lost at the casinos. I know Aunt Elaine paid the university directly for my tuition and dorm while letting me believe it was our money.”
“How did you—” Brogan starts, but I cut him off with a wave of my hand.
“It doesn’t matter how I found out.” I bite my lip, the memory still raw. Last year, I’d frozen outside Aunt Elaine’s study when I overheard Mom asking her sister for more money, only to learn the truth.
How do you think she made it to her final year, Leticia?Aunt Elaine had demanded, her voice sharp enough to slice through my illusions about our family finances.
That night, I’d stared at my social media accounts, at the carefully curated images of a life I couldn’t realistically afford, and felt something inside me crack.
“Look, I know what you both think of me,” I say, meeting their eyes. “Poor little Teddy, playing at being an influencer, surrounded by people who only care about my last name and the doors it opens. And you’re not wrong.” Their exchanged glance tells me my candor has caught them off guard. “When I ran out of money, my so-called friends vanished faster than free champagne at a gallery opening. They just moved on to the next person who could get them into VIP sections.”
Through it all, Aunt Elaine and her two sons had been my only real support system. While my mother was busy reinventing herself as the trophy wife to some tech billionaire, Preston had set me up in one of the Hollister beachfront townhouses and monitored my spending with a mixture of firmness and compassion I hadn’t appreciated until now.
“And housekeeping is the right thing?” Brogan asks, skepticism in his voice though his expression has softened.
“No, but the hotel business might be,” I reply, surprising myself with how much I mean it. “This empire your parents built, that you’re expanding—it employs hundreds of people, creates experiences, has substance. I want to be part of something real for once.”
Preston studies me, his expression unreadable. “And you think starting as a housekeeper will give you that?”
“I think understanding the foundation of the business will,” I say. “How can I ever belong here, ever contribute anything meaningful, if I don’t understand how every part works?” I meet his gaze. “I’m not just looking for a position, Preston. I’m looking for a home—a real one, built on something solid.”
The silence that follows feels eternal. Preston’s fingers drum a staccato rhythm on his polished desk.
“Teddy,” he says, his voice gentler now, “I understand your desire to prove yourself, but this is unprecedented. The board won’t understand.”
“The board doesn’t need to know,” I say, locking eyes with him. “I’ll work under an assumed name. No one needs to know I’m a Hollister.”
Brogan pushes off from the window, his footsteps muffled by the plush carpet. “This is insane, Preston. If the press finds out that she’s stripping bed linens?—”
“Not if I work at one of the smaller hotels,” I interject. “And if anyone recognizes me, I can always say I’m my own doppelgänger.” I give the brothers my best pleading look, the one that used to get me extra dessert as a child. “Please let me prove myself to you.”
“Starting with housekeeping?” Preston’s eyes narrow, something like respect flickering behind his skepticism.
