Page 31 of Spring Break with a Bodyguard
“I am indeed Theodora Hollister,” I continue, my voice taking on the assured tone I’ve heard Preston use in board meetings. “And yes, I’ve been working here under an alias. But not because I’ve been ‘cut off’ or experienced any ‘fall from grace.’”
Roberts’ triumphant expression cracks. “Then why the deception?”
“It’s called learning the business from the ground up,” I explain, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “How can I effectively help manage a hotel chain if I don’t understand how every department functions? Including—perhaps especially—housekeeping.”
The staff room erupts in murmurs. Confusion, surprise, and in some faces, a dawning respect.
“That’s absurd,” Roberts sputters. “The Hollisters would never?—”
“It was approved by Preston Hollister himself,” Javi interjects, stepping to my side. “Part of Miss Hollister’s management training program.”
“Exactly,” I agree, building on our improvised explanation. “And it’s been incredibly valuable. I’ve learned more in eight days of housekeeping than I would have in months of boardroom presentations.”
Carmen’s expression shifts from concern to something like admiration. “That explains why you’ve been so determined to learn everything properly.”
“She is dedicated,” Miguel adds. “Hollister or not, she’s worked harder than anyone I’ve trained in years.”
A commotion from the lobby interrupts us. Through the staff room windows, camera flashes strobe as a growing crowd gathers at the front entrance.
“Ah, it seems the media has arrived,” Roberts says, his smirk returning. “Still think your undercover experiment was a good idea, Miss Hollister?”
My throat constricts as more reporters arrive. This wasn’t part of the plan. Preston will be furious. The Hollister Hotels PR team will have a meltdown.
My three-week experiment is effectively over, and worse, I’m about to become the latest Hollister headline—exactly what Preston feared when I first proposed working for the family business.
“What are you going to do?” Roberts taunts, watching me closely. “Run out the back door? Hide behind your family name? I’m sure your cousins will be thrilled to deal with another PR crisis you’ve created.”
His words hit their mark. That’s exactly what the old Teddy would have done—run from the consequences and let Preston clean up her mess.
The path of least resistance. My mother’s way.
But I’m not my mother.
“Actually,” I say, “I think the timing is perfect. Javi, would you mind escorting me to the lobby? I believe I have a statement to make.”
Roberts’ triumphant expression falters. “What are you doing?”
“Taking control of the narrative,” I reply. “Isn’t that what you wanted? A story about Teddy Hollister, housekeeper? Well, you’re about to get one—just not the scandal you were hoping for.”
I turn to the staff, many of whom have become unexpectedly important to me over the past week. “I want to thank all of you for your patience and guidance. Everything I’ve learned here will influence how I approach hotel management going forward.” My eyes find Miguel. “Some of you have been particularly kind, teaching me skills I never would have developed otherwise. I’m grateful.”
With that, I smooth my housekeeping uniform and head for the lobby, Javi falling into step beside me.
“You sure about this?” he murmurs, his shoulder brushing mine.
“Not remotely,” I admit, my voice barely audible. “But it beats letting Roberts control the story.”
“While you’re creating a distraction, I’ll get into his office,” Javi reminds me, his voice a low rumble. “There must be a reason why all our trackers ended up there yesterday.”
I nod. “I’ll keep them occupied as long as possible.”
As we approach the lobby, my steps falter. Through the glass doors, at least twenty reporters jostle for position, cameras raised. Local news vans line the circular drive. This isn’t just going to be a small story in the society pages—this will be everywhere.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” I whisper, my earlier confidence evaporating.
Javi’s hand finds mine, hidden from view in the corridor, and squeezes briefly. “You can. Just be honest—the real you, not who anyone expects you to be.”
The real me.Not the party girl, not the socialite, not the housekeeper—just Teddy.
