The Tycoon's Seductive Revenge by Kristi Avalon Read Free Book Online Page A

bookshelf where the bell had echoed.
    The shelf swung inward, revealing a staircase that spiraled downward.
    Ellie’s jaw dropped. “No way.”
    “Want to find out where it goes?”
    “Heck yeah.” She pushed away hesitation and entered the stone-walled secret staircase. “This is amazing.” Her voice echoed.
    She scanned the passage’s brick walls along their descent as if crude drawings might appear to illuminate the inexplicable. A door came into view at the bottom of the staircase.
    She tried the handle. “It’s stuck.”
    “Let me try.”
    Carter felt around in the entryway, apparently looking for something. He shoved a lever above the door. A slot opened, just large enough for two eyes to peer out.
    “Too bad no one’s on the other side to let us in.” He pounded on the door twice.
    It gave an inch. Rust drifted from the hinges. He shoved again.
    This time the heavy steel door creaked open. Carter pulled a keychain flashlight from his pocket and ventured inside. Close behind him, Ellie squeezed her hands together wondering what they’d find.
    Carter held up the flashlight and stopped a few paces in. He let out a low whistle. “I never expected this.”
    Greeting her were the smells of aged liquor, moldy newspapers, and wood saturated with stale cigarette smoke.
    Ellie stepped out from behind him. “This is incredible.” Excitement bubbled up inside her. “It’s like a speakeasy out of the nineteen-twenties. I’ll bet Eliot Ness and his crew never found this bootlegger hideaway.”
    “Neither has anyone else in almost a century.”
    “This would be the perfect attraction to play up for an island hotel,” she mused aloud.
    Carter said nothing.
    “Look at this bar,” she admired, running her hand along the scarred antique surface. “And the mirrors behind the old bottles back there.” She glanced up. “And the chandelier. Can you imagine the parties they had here? Women wearing empire-waist gowns, men in pinstripe suits and fedoras. Smoking and lounging at the bar, or swinging to the Charleston. I can almost see it!”
    Ellie turned a circle, envisioning parties like the ones Jay Gatsby held for the wealthy on Long Island, all the while pining for Daisy who lived a separate life across the channel. She could almost hear an eight-piece swing band wailing tunes.
    “Isn’t this perfect?” She jumped up and down. “This is just what the hotel needs to attract the kind of patrons it used to back in the day.”
    “Ellie, I think you’re missing the best feature.” Carter strode past her toward the far wall.
    “What could be better than this room’s history?” she asked, still dazzled by the possibilities of how much tourism this could draw.
    “Liquid gold, baby.” Using his flashlight he scanned the circle of light over stacks of wooden crates and barrels piled up to the ceiling.
    Pulling one crate from a lower stack, Carter set it on the floor and pried off the weathered lid. The contents revealed tightly packed bottles.
    His eyebrows shot up. “Now this is something.” He smeared caked-on grime from the bottle’s label. “Vintage, bootlegged rum.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe they left this here.”
    “Do you think they were raided?” Ellie suggested.
    “Maybe.” He shrugged. “The fact is we’re sitting on dozens of cases of nearly century-old liquor and wine. That, sweetheart, will draw tourists with deep pockets from all over the world. You could sell the entire collection for a mint.”
    With a grunt he popped the top off the bottle he held. “We should drink—to old times.”
    Ellie smiled at his double-entendre. She slipped behind the bar and rummaged around until she knocked into a row of glasses. Holding one up, she wrinkled her nose. “I think I’ll take my rum extra-dry, without a twist of mildew.”
    Carter nodded. “Let’s bring it topside.”
    They hurried up the secret staircase, sharing grand visions of the speakeasy’s rehab and laughing