Stein Hotel is privately owned, but it’s not impressive like so many of the grand hotels around here. The original owner, a Swiss family, envisioned something typical of their home country. The building is five stories high with a pitched roof, and although not opulent, it’s extremely picturesque with its timber structure and useable balconies. The two-story, granite side extension is practical. It houses the ski/boot room on the top floor, with the restaurants below. But it’s the exclusive eco cabins that I like best. Built about ten years ago, they sit perched on the mountainside overlooking the valley.
It’s a shame the two neighboring businesses recently sold and now stand empty. It makes Stein Hotel look depressing and abandoned.
Descending the stairs to the basement level, I punch in at the clock by Maria’s door before dumping my personal items in my staff locker.
Shortly after, I start blitzing cabin one. Every corner is checked for spider webs. Every light bulb and shade is dusted down. Couch cushions are lifted and vacuumed under. Rugs are beaten. By the time I’m done, the bathrooms smell preposterously clean, the bedrooms sparkle, and the living space is polished to a shine.
Elias comes to inspect my progress every hour, the earlier than normal arrival time of Mr. Luca Wolfford stressing him out.
After the fastest lunch, a colleague stocking the kitchen with fresh bottles of vintage wine, champagne, and Scotland’s finest whiskey, I return to wash the floors as the clock looms towards 2.30.
Fresh flowers are delivered. The wood pile on the deck is replenished. Cakes and pastries from the kitchen arrive in a cloth-covered basket. After double-checkingeverything, I spend ten minutes heading back to my locker to clean up, swapping out my clothes and retying my hair, the refrainimmaculate immaculate immaculatestuck in my head.
As I head back to the cabin, I get a ten-minute warning text from the limo service. I immediately text Elias. Anxiously, I wait for my guest to arrive. Making one last inspection, I note the welcoming Christmas tree lights that bring festive cheer, the fire burning that brings warmth, and the waiting refreshments.
Outside, I meet Elias, my sweater ineffective against the below-freezing temperatures. But management doesn’t want us wearing coats and ruining the esthetic.
Smoothing down another preposterous tie, Elias pins me with his overfamiliar eyes. I use it to my advantage.
“If this goes well, I want a management position. I don’t mind where, but I don’t want to go back to changing beds. I have a Bachelor’s degree in International Hospitality Business. I deserve more than this.”
Elias inhales sharply. It’s not the first time I’ve asked. If he thinks I’m going to take my punishment for much longer, he’s deranged. Losing me would cause more HR headaches, but I like Maria. I like Emily and Justin and Betsy. “A minimum of a hundred points.”
Even after Elias’s mandate that all points will be doubled this week, the maximum I can earn is one hundred and ten. It’s a tall order. “You know ratings are arbitrary. For some, a nine is as good as you’ll ever get, even if I gave them golden eggs for breakfast with diamond-studded rolls.”
“It’s the same system for everyone here.”
“It’s a crap system,” I clarify succinctly. “We all know it needs an overhaul. If the reviews are glowing, what does it matter if they give me eight or ten stars for each category?”
An indifferent shrug. “It matters.”
“Elias, I am about to single-handedly look after some VIPs. I’m not the kind to sabotage my work or someone’s business, but the least you could do is offer me a fucking bone,” I seethe.
He looks like I’ve slapped him. “You will never work in Vail again if you do not give your absolute best.”
“I plan on doing that, but I’ve done my penance, and you know it.”
This asshole has saved a fortune on my salary by hiring me at the level he did. I could be earning considerably more elsewhere. And there are reasons why I’m not elsewhere but I don’t want to think about those right now.
“One hundred points. If not, you can work your way back to management by taking me up on my offer.”
I couldn’t dislike this perverted creep any more than I do. “Get fucked, Elias,” I grit, wishing he wasn’t the sole owner of the hotel but someone I could make a complaint against. I really need to leave this place.
Seething, I fix my gaze on the entrance of the hotel, further down the slope. With several pines in the way, I have to look through the available gaps between their trunks, but a minute later, a recognizable limo pulls in from the main road. Carefully, it navigates the little T junction before heading towards us, up the winding hill. The road is lined by small evergreens and lights, off which are short tracks to reach each cabin. But number one is at the top of the slope and down a short drive. It's secluded, private, highest, and three dozen pines shield it from the wind and the hotel.
My heated argument with Elias gets pushed to the back of my mind, though it helped defeat the invasive cold standing out here coat-less. With the sky heavy with snow-laden clouds, it feels dark out here already. The car headlights dazzle me as it rounds the bend, inching closer along the snow-packed tarmac, fortitude and resolve filling my bones.
I will manage this. There’s no reason why I would be tempted by three men a few years older than me. I’ve already told myself they’ll be boring, obnoxious, or married. Maybe all three. I can be around men and not be attracted to them.
There’s nothing to worry about.
The driver comes to a stop. The engine cuts off. The passenger door swings open, and a raven-haired man in dark jeans and a caramel sweater emerges. A black winter coat is clutched in a hand, a laptop bag too. The driver hauls a hard-cased suitcase from the trunk, along with a massive ski bag.
Luca Wolfford tips the driver as I walk towards him, ready to assist. “Good afternoon, Mr. Wolfford. I’m Winter, your VIP Manager. I hope you had a good journey.”
Sapphire blue eyes move languidly over my features, heat prickling my cheeks at the overwhelming intimacy of it. And he’s tall, like six two at least, my head feeling blurry as I take in every glorious inch of him.
Fuck me. This is bad news. Colossally bad news.