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“Does that mean I need to hire my replacement?”
“Yes.”
“Wow! I can’t believe you’re promoting me,” she trails off.
“It’s not because we’re together,” I assure her, even though I can’t think that worry is going through her head. Not anymore.
“I know.” She takes a happy breath. “This is great for you, Luca. It’s a good move to share your load.”
“Baby, come on. Anytime you want a load just ask.”
She swats my arm. “Shut up.”
Cheesy jokes aside, the benefits of this are endless, most of them personal ones. And with Winter helping me make the big decisions I’m reassured we’ve got a crack team at the helm.
The electronic lock on the office door sounds, Brecken pushing open the door and striding in. His eyes immediately slice towards us, a cocky smile forming. “Get your hands off my fiancée,” he growls, but there’s no heat in it. Now, he gets to rub their connection in our faces. Turnabout is fair play I guess.
“Your fiancée sucked my dick earlier like she’s not been getting any for weeks. And then she rode my face until she shattered all over me.”
Yeah, I’m not letting him get away with that for long.Prick.
Softly, he punches me in the shoulder. Again there’s no heat to it, but he’s studying both of us to see if it’s true. I refuse to confirm either way.
With a quiet laugh at his behavior, Winter pulls free from my arms and crosses her arms against her chest. She might tolerate it most of the time, but she doesn’t reward him for it. She just reminds him now and then that there’s a line he can butt up against but not step over.
“I was thinking,” I say, looking across at Roo who’s dumped some rolled-up drawings on his desk and is wandering towards us. “That we offer Laurent six million dollars to keep him comfortable.”
Brecken shrugs. “I’ll send a contract over limiting the hotel group financially. Nothing underhanded,” he points out. “Just a marker in the ground to show we’re not an open bank account. Not unless he’s getting involved.”
“Maybe his retreat should come under the Balthazar umbrella,” Winter suggests. “It could always be a sub-brand. Seeing as you three are taking on the family name now, maybe it could be a Wolfford retreat.”
Hearing the suggestion out loud shouldn’t surprise me. It’s one that’s been struggling to surface at the back of my brain for some time. Still, it renders me silent for a second as I interrogate the idea now that it’s out there.
“Shit, that’s not a bad shout,” Reuben says, leaning on the window frame to watch the continual snowfall. “I want to meet him again, but under better circumstances. He seemed cool.”
“Sounds like spring break plans just got the go-ahead,” Brecken voices, throwing an arm around Winter's shoulders. “Fancy Paris?”
Holiday plans are the least of my worries right now because I’m fixated on Winter’s idea. Used to my expression when I’m hooked on something and am turning it over, she says, “You’re thinking of spas, aren’t you?”
I nod, liking the idea more and more. “It’s been an area Dad and I have discussed before, but we’ve always discounted it, our focus on the cityscape experience.” Of providing exemplary standards for our overnight accommodation. But if Laurent’s keen to explore the spiritual, mental health arena, while we continue with the high-spec, luxurious stays, maybe there’s a different offering we can provide. One that’s being increasingly valued.
When the press release goes out to the whole world, detailing Balthazar Wolfford’s retirement, and the role of his sons in the future of the hotel, our name will be on everyone’s lips. There will no escaping the empire we’ve amassed, nor the vision we have for modernizing the hotel group to meet the changing, challenging demands of our guests.
Winter was right. Wardorff-Messen was stuck up and stuffy, and we ran the risk of being lumped in with them, overlooked for other hotels that catered to a more discerning, financially mobile younger market.
“Hmm. A cake and spa experience,” Winter suggests with a wry grin. “Now there’s an idea I can get behind.”
For a few minutes, I check out of the conversation around me as I return to my desk and write an email to HR, asking them to send through Winter’s new contract. From a drawer, I pull out the well-thumbed notebook Winter wrote in months ago. In the early days, my brothers and I would look at this quite seriously, wondering how to give Winter everything she needed while keeping things distinctive and separate too.
Working out what’s been my favorite is too difficult. And we’re not bothering to consult this anymore, but it was fun reliving the memories while we did.
Putting the notebook away, I shut down my laptop before I can read the number of emails mounting up. Then, I silence my phone. “Fuck it. Let’s get drunk,” I suggest to raised eyebrows. “Winter’s celebrating.”
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
Reuben
I’ve barely lookedup from my screen for the past three hours, my focus entirely on the Vail build. Deadlines are fast approaching. After rechecking the latest code on a bunch of really boring regulations, I close down my computer and tip my head back.
