“I found some of my father’s old files.”I held up the folder.“Private suite arrangements.Fourth floor.”
Maya’s expression shifted.Surprise, quickly masked.Then wariness moved behind her eyes before she smoothed it away behind a practiced smile.
“Sit down,” she said.“I will make tea.”
I sat on her velvet settee while she busied herself with the kettle, her movements precise and unhurried.The ritual of tea-making was giving her time to decide what to tell me.How much truth I could handle.
When she finally handed me a cup and settled across from me, her face had composed itself into careful neutrality.
“What do you want to know?”
“What was my father running up there?”
She sighed, the sound heavy with years of secrets.“Richard was a businessman, darling.A very good one.And part of being good at business is understanding that people have needs they cannot fulfill in public.”
“Affairs.”
“Some.”She took a sip of her tea, her eyes never leaving my face.“But also meetings that could not happen officially.Negotiations that required privacy.Conversations between people who could not be seen speaking to each other.”
The implications settled in my stomach like lead.“He was helping people keep secrets.”
“Richard knew everyone’s secrets because he helped them keep them.”Maya paused, her elegant fingers wrapped around her teacup.“And people who keep secrets always keep some of their own.”
“What kind of secrets?”
Her eyes met mine, and I saw something there I did not like.Pity, maybe.Or warning.
“Your father was not a bad man, Lena.He was a complicated one.He loved you fiercely.He wanted to protect you from the uglier parts of his world.”She set down her cup with a soft clink against the saucer.“But protection and honesty are not always the same thing.”
“Maya.”I leaned forward.“What are you trying to tell me?”
“I am telling you to be careful digging into his past.Some secrets are buried for a reason.And some of the people your father knew…” She shook her head slowly.“They would not appreciate having their arrangements examined.”
Blackmail.She was talking about blackmail.The fourth-floor suites were not just about discretion.They were about leverage.My father had built a system that let powerful people do things in secret, and in return, he had held those secrets over their heads.
“Who managed the arrangements?The fourth-floor suites?”
Maya’s expression closed like a door.“Your father handled those personally.Always.He never trusted anyone else with the details.”She paused, something flickering behind her eyes.“That should tell you something about the nature of what he was keeping.”
The nature of what he was keeping.Secrets valuable enough that he could not risk even his most trusted staff knowing the full picture.
“Thank you, Maya.”
“Lena.”She caught my hand as I stood to leave, her grip surprisingly strong for her age.“Your father’s world was more complicated than you knew.Be careful what doors you open.Some of them cannot be closed again.”
I left her suite with more questions than answers and a cold feeling settling in my chest.
In the hallway, I nearly collided with Michael.
“Whoa, careful there.”He caught my arm, steadying me with that warm, concerned smile that had seen me through so many crises.His grip was gentle, familiar.“You okay?You look like you have seen a ghost.”
“Just processing some things.”I tucked the folder under my arm, pressing it against my side.“Going through my father’s old files.”
Something crossed his face.There and gone so fast I might have imagined it.A tightness around his eyes, a brief hardening of his jaw.
“Finding anything interesting?”
“Just hotel records.Nothing important.”I did not know why I lied.Instinct, maybe.The same instinct that made me want to step back from his grip, though I did not let myself.