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Eric wasn’t a natural charmer,but he waslikeable—bashful grins and an attentive air, a gentle sweetness about him that immediately endeared him to guests.
Adrian hoped he would last a while. The previous bloke had needed two weeks to declare himself a city person. Before that, it had been two women who, one after the other, realised that a week-long holiday in a mountain hotel was quite different from working there for a season. Eric might draw a similar conclusion, especially since he wasn’t making much money between working part-time, with board and lodging as part of his compensation.
At least Kojo had spent a year in the French countryside, so he was less likely to be shocked at how counting shooting stars was the biggest evening entertainment around here. Then again, he’d mentioned that he and Eric, ‘the most important person in my life other than my family’—cheeky bastard—had grown up in a small town in the Manchester area, so maybe neither of them would miss London’s clubs, traffic jams, and skyscrapers too much.
Adrian would start believing it once they hit the four-week mark.
“Have a little faith,” Martin told him when Adrian shared the thought. Like most nights, the two of them worked side by side to clean up the bar and common area together—Eric had offered his help, but he’d looked tired from the trip, had already exceeded his allotted hours for the day, and still needed to move his things out of Kojo’s room and into the one that had belonged to the previous chef. So Adrian had waved him off to bed, Kojo not far behind, after they’d all had a bite to eat in the kitchen.
“I don’t need faith when I have experience,” Adrian countered.
“I’ve got a good feeling about these two,” Martin said.
“That’s what you said about Nora.”
“She was hot, too.”
“I’m not sure how that relates to whether someone is likely to stick around.”
“Maybe there’s a way you could increase Eric’s motivation to stay.” Martin’s hand gesture aptly demonstrated his meaning. “Seems like your type.”
Nope, Adrian wasn’t touching that with a ten-foot pole. Except… “And what is my type?”
“Alive, male, and willing.”
“Hey, not nice.” It wasn’t really true anymore either—yes, Adrian had gone through a phase, but his Berlin days were behind him, and at this point, even his trips to Zurich were few and far between. He didn’t miss them half as much as he’d thought he would.
“Oh, I’m kidding.” Martin wiped the bottom of a liquor bottle before he set it on a shelf and shot Adrian a lopsided grin. “I know you pick paperwork over sex these days.”
“It’s just—”
“—until the handover is complete and you understand every single aspect of how to run this place, I know.” Martin’s expression softened. “But don’t forget to live a little, too.”
“I’m fine,” Adrian protested.
“Good,” Martin said easily, and Adrian wasn’t sure why he’d expected more resistance. Maybe because he couldn’t even rememberthe last time he’d sat down to read a book that wasn’t about marketing, much less the last time he’d picked someone up. A couple of months ago, was it? He’d been busy, and his own hand was far more familiar with how he liked it than some stranger in a club.
“Good,” he echoed softly.
They worked in silence after that, finishing up at a decent hour because most of the guests here were in bed by eleven and on the slopes early the next morning, when the corduroy was still fresh. In front of Martin’s door, they parted with a quick hug and a peck on the lips—personal boundaries didn’t exactly apply, not when they’d mapped every inch of each other’s bodies while cameras circled around them. Fortunately, Martin’s boyfriend wasn’t the jealous type.
Adrian continued along the corridor, passing Eric’s and Kojo’s rooms. The staff bathrooms lay further ahead, along with two more rooms that belonged to the housekeepers. Adrian turned a corner, took the stairs to the top floor of the old wing, and unlocked the door to his little slice of privacy.
The space had belonged to his parents until Dad’s knee problem prompted them to relocate to the ground floor. Adrian had kept some of their furniture—his grandfather’s old standup piano, a seating set from the twenties, and a walnut secretary desk with mother-of-pearl inlays. It made for a fun contrast to the modern pieces he’d picked out himself. It wasn’t fit for a feature inArchitectural Digest, but it was his.
He brushed his teeth by the window, night shadows brightened by the blanket of snow. It was nearing midnight when he fell into bed, and he set his alarm for seven—while his parents covered the breakfast shift, mornings were always busy with guests checking out early ahead of a day in the mountains. He’d take a nap in the afternoon.
Or maybe he’d hit the slopes instead since he had yet to make it out there after the sudden arrival of winter ten days ago. If he set everything up for dinner beforehand, he might be able to stay out until four, get in a solid three hours of skiing. Martin might want to come along. Could check with Eric and Kojo too, see if they wantedto join—Eric looked like the athletic type, not that Adrian had noticed. Maybe a taste of the Grindelwald area and its iconic views would make both Eric and Kojo more likely to hang around for a while.
All right. There was Adrian’s plan for tomorrow.
Turning onto his side, he let the familiar murmur of the river slow his thoughts to a crawl.
4
“Okay, so.” In his rented ski outfit, Kojo resembled a bag of Skittles. “How do you become a porn star?”
Oh my God.Eric dropped his forehead against the cold window of the cable car cabin. “Kojo. Filter on, please?”
