Then she spotted me.
Her face drained of color.
Dad followed her eyes.
Within seconds, they were standing around my table.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Dad demanded.
I calmly placed my fork beside my plate.
"Enjoying my vacation."
"You weren't supposed to come."
"That's what Mom said."
Vanessa folded her arms.
"Seriously, Millie? You couldn't just let us have one peaceful vacation?"
I looked at her.
"You're standing at my table yelling at me."
Mom whispered, "Please, honey. Don't make a scene."
That almost made me laugh.
Then Vanessa noticed my wrist.
My gold penthouse access band.
Her gaze dropped to her own basic blue band.
She froze.
"Wait."
She grabbed Dad's arm.
"Look at her wrist."
Dad saw the gold band.
Then the penthouse keycard beside my dessert plate.
Something in his face changed.
Not simply anger.
Fear.
He stepped closer.
"What did you do?"
"I adjusted the reservations."
Vanessa practically shrieked.
"You downgraded us?"
"I removed the upgrades I had paid for."
Dad planted both hands on the table.
"You had no right!"
I met his eyes.
"The agency disagrees."
His expression hardened.
Then he leaned close enough that I could smell the coffee on his breath.
**"Millie, you have no idea what you've just ruined."**
There was something in his voice I had never heard before.
Panic.
I straightened.
"What exactly did I ruin?"
He glanced around the buffet.
"None of your business."
"Then why does it involve my penthouse?"
Vanessa stepped forward.
"We were supposed to have that suite! Dad made arrangements!"
"With whom?"
Silence.
Brandon stared at the floor.
Uncle Paul muttered, "Richard, this isn't the place."
Dad snapped, "We had an important meeting planned. A business matter. And you've destroyed everything over some childish grudge."
My stomach tightened.
"What business matter?"
"Forget it."
But Brandon was holding a cream-colored envelope.
When Vanessa grabbed his arm, several papers slipped halfway out.
I caught a heading printed across the top of one page.
**MILLIE MILLER — PERSONAL GUARANTOR.**
