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He has? Luca did say he would, but I didn’t expect it to be so soon. “Pleasure to meet you, sir. And thank you, I hope to be an asset to the business, and the Hotel Balthazar brand.”
He smiles curiously, Immi retaking her seat next to Jack. “It seems you are already. I look forward to seeing how your career progresses.”
I think he’s talking in code, referencing my dual life within these walls, that of lover and employee. It was why I was adamant that Luca wasn’t going to introduce me to his father last night. Meeting in a business setting seemed much more appropriate.
“I trust we’ll see you at the New Year’s Eve ball tomorrow.” It’s not a question or polite enquiry. It’s a mandate. As if I’d miss it anyway.
“I’ll be there,” I promise, figuring out what I’ll wear my next priority. I unpacked at least two options that should work. “I’m looking forward to it,” I add, thinking of the legendary, society ball frequented by athletes and celebrities.
“Ooh, I want to see your dress,” Immi says eagerly. “Have you got one?”
“Yes,” I say confidently, even if it’s not strictly true. But I can’t let the owner/CEO/big boss know I’m unprepared.
Balthazar smiles enigmatically. “It’s much easier for us gentlemen to bring out our suits. Whatever you decide on, I’m sure it will be perfect. Well, don’t let me keep you. Winter,” he says in goodbye, nodding at Immi and Jack.
“Goodbye,” I reply, heading for my desk.
“Well, that was a stroke of luck,” Imani says.
Reflexively, I smile, positive thoughts occupying me from that small encounter.
Before long, we’re neck-deep in projects, my brain hurting from the non-stop information dump. Frantically, I scribble notes, making sure I capture every pertinent comment. Every point that needs my absolute focus and attention.
At midday, I suggest we break for lunch. By the looks of things most people bring their own, or pop out to local shops and takeaways, but Immi and Jack agree to lunch courtesy of their new boss.
Before we head out, I head upstairs to grab my coat. Checking my cell, I see I have a few messages.
Reuben’s sent me a funny meme about first-day nerves in the new job. It makes me smile, and I reply withThanks. So far so good!
And there’s one from Luca.Good luck today. Don’t be surprised if Dad searches you out. Like you, he’s impatient ;)
When I reach my room, I slip on my coat and some boots before returning to the office. Lunch with my team will be good. And I need distractions, ones that will stop me from dissecting my evening with Brecken where he confessed some big emotions. Where I learnt more about what’s expected of me.
I need to forget how he held me all night long, just like the pillow I envied back in cabin one, as he kissed me sweetly, wishing me good luck.
At six o’clock,I decide to call it a day. My brain is frazzled. Most people have left anyway.
Back in my room, I strip out of my suit and into some sweatpants and a comfy fleece. In the closet, I pick out two dresses I’m considering for the ball and head down to the laundry. I meet Jorge, asking him if he can get them dry-cleaned overnight. Once that’s sorted, I head up to Suite Balzer to seek out Brecken. I find him in the gym, finishing a set on the weight machine that seems to have every muscle in his back, shoulders, and arms straining.
Fuck me, he’s delicious.
“Will the others be back in time for dinner?”
“No,” he says on a heavy exhale, wiping sweat from his face with a towel. “Will you order while I shower?”
My eyes rake over his body. “Can I join you?”
A wry shake of his head.
Playfully, I pout, turning for the door as Brecken hollers his order. In the kitchen, I locate the menu. I’m pretty sure these boys can order anything they want and the chefs will cook it for them, but I’ve got a list as long as my arm to work my way through before I go off-menu. It all looks too good.
Once dinner is sorted, I move into the living room, peering out of the windows and the valley all lit up. I switch on the tree lights, then the TV, channel-surfing through endless stations.
Ten minutes later, Brecken appears, damp-haired and dressed in nothing but sweats. Uncaring how obvious I am, I let my eyes linger on his delicious ink and muscles.
“You’re making this really hard for me, I just want to be clear on that.”
“It’s too hot for a shirt,” he avoids.
