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As much as I desperately wanted to pass out for the rest of the day (jetlag was a real pill), I, unfortunately, had a full day of work. No rest for the weary in my line of work. I did, however, allow myself the luxury of a hot shower.
The bathroom, though clean, showcased fixtures that were functional but visibly old-fashioned. The tiles, once white and pristine, now had a yellowed patina, and the faucets, though polished, were of a style no longer in vogue. Europe had a reputation for the weirdest bathrooms in the world, but I still thought we could do with an upgrade.
But the water was hot right then, and that was all I cared about.
I reapplied my makeup and changed into fresh clothes—a simple black sheath dress in a wrinkle-free blend that was one of my go-tos for work travel. I pulled my hair back into a twist and slipped into my black pumps. In a world that was now perpetually in joggers and hoodies, even at the office, my company had held tight to its business chic. Maybe it was silly of me, but I was secretly grateful. With my vertical challenge, I felt more powerful with just a little polish.
Dressed in my corporate robot power attire, I logged into my email to review some end-of-year projections my boss had sent over before I met with the three Novák siblings—the trio standing in the way of this deal closing. I tried to stay focused on the rows of numbers, but all I could think about was exploring the hotel like a child.
* * *
As I finally made my way down the halls of the Novák Hotel to the meeting room a couple of hours later, it was as though I had stepped into a living, breathing painting. Above, chandeliers draped the grand lobby in a warm, golden light, each crystal a tiny sun unto itself, illuminating the antique furnishings and old paintings lining the walls.
A soft piano melody drifted in from the bar lounge, where a man in a tuxedo entertained a handful of guests with a mellow classic tune. The sound mingled seamlessly with the soft clinking of fine china and the low murmur of conversations from the lounge, creating a symphony of sophisticated elegance.
I paused just outside the entrance to the lounge, swaying slowly as I absorbed the scene before me. My fingers couldn't resist the temptation to brush against the intricate patterns etched into the dark wooden wall panels, the craftsmanship a silent yet resounding nod to a time of artisans and grandeur, to hands guided by passion and precision.
Yet despite the hotel’s obvious former luxury, there was also an unmistakable sense of coziness to the entire building, as though the Nováks had tried to create a personal retreat for each visitor. Family portraits adorned the walls, narrating the family’s history. Antique furnishings lent a sense of warmth and intimacy, inviting guests to linger and luxuriate in the comfort they provided. The result was a remarkably inviting atmosphere.
“Ah, Miss Frost.”
I turned and saw Berco coming toward me.
“Hello,” I said.
“The Nováks are finishing up their meeting but have asked that you come to the meeting room to wait. Would you like some coffee?”
“I have never once in my adult life refused coffee,” I said to Berco’s amusement.
“Please, come. Let me tell you a bit about our little hotel while we walk.”
As we walked, his words painted a vivid picture of the hotel’s notable past, each anecdote a brushstroke in the vibrant mural of history that spanned the walls around us.
“We have had many distinguished guests here at the hotel over the years. We once hosted a Moroccan prince who brought with him his pet elephant!”
“Um, is that right?” I looked around the structure, trying to picture an elephant hanging out in the lobby.
“Yes, yes. We had to construct a special elephant suite for it. It was before my time, of course, but everyone still talks about Prince Zayani. Guests still report mysterious trumpeting sounds at night.”
“That’s—that’s quite the story.”
Berco nodded enthusiastically. “We have also had Americans, too. A famous Hollywood pair conducted an affair here in 1932. Early paparazzi would chase them everywhere. They slipped out of the hotel dressed as the bellhop! Started a real fashion trend when the photos were leaked.”
I shook my head and bit back a laugh, having no idea if there was any truth to any of this.
“Have you worked here long then?” I asked.
He looked both humble and proud as he nodded. “Nearly fifty years.”
I felt my brow go up. “That’s—wow, that’s incredible.”
“Thank you. I started as a bellhop working for Radek Novák, the children’s grandfather. I watched all of the children be born, grow up.”
He grinned like a proud grandfather.
“That’s a really special connection,” I said.
“And here,” he swiftly changed the subject, gesturing toward an antique clock that stood proudly against the wall, its pendulum swaying with the steady heartbeat of the hotel. “Is a favorite among our guests. But they often wish they could have a digital counterpart—something with a bit more... modern accuracy.” He grinned, but I wasn’t sure he shared the sentiment toward modern accuracy. The entire place seemed to exist in a vortex of forgotten time.
