Hotel queens, p.11
Hotel Queens, page 11
Kai hung back at the restaurant entrance, studying him as he tapped on his phone between bites of toast. Her eye slid to the obnoxious gold watch flashing on his wrist and several fat rings on his fingers. Hamadani ran a hand absent-mindedly through his manicured beard.
She drew in a deep breath, plastered on her most charming smile, walked up to him, and said, “I hope you don’t mind the intrusion. Is this seat taken?” She rested her hands on the smooth wooden back of the chair opposite him.
The businessman put down his phone, and his gaze swept the room, pointedly assessing all the empty tables. Then he smiled and politely said, “Apparently not, madam.” He waved at her to sit.
“I’m Kai Fisher,” she said as she did so. Then, in case her intentions might be misunderstood, she added quickly, “VP at Grand Millennium Hotels. I think we have a proposal you might be interested in.”
He regarded her. “I believe I know what you might be inquiring about. A certain about-to-be-launched five-star hotel in London? Yes?”
Kai’s lips curled. “That would be the one.”
“I’m afraid you’re too late, madam. I have received an offer so exceptional, I’m not even bothering with the competition.”
“If it’s so exceptional, why hasn’t a deal been announced?” Kai smiled warmly to take away any hint of accusation. “And no offer is so good that an alternative one can’t be considered. Yes?” She cocked an eyebrow.
“I’m not so sure about that.”
He hadn’t denied it, though. Hope surged. “Mr. Hamadani, I have an offer that will have them talking about this deal for decades. Your father will want to build statues in your honor by the time we’re done.”
It was a gamble, but Kai would never go broke underestimating any man’s need to impress his father, especially when said man came from a culture centered on family. There was a reason so many Arabic surnames included family-focused honorifics such as ibn (son of), abu (father of), and al (of).
“Statues. Is that so?” He did not sound remotely enthused.
Had she overplayed her hand? Too much BS before her coffee? Kai gave him an unrepentant grin that she hoped he’d find at least a little charming.
He regarded her for a long moment, as if weighing her up. Maybe he just liked watching her squirm. “Join me for breakfast, Ms. Fisher?” His expression was curious now. And he still hadn’t shot her down outright on negotiating for Mayfair Palace.
“Absolutely.” And that was the moment she felt it—the feeling she always had when she knew she’d close a deal. She had him.
Two hours later, Kai left the man to a business call, wearing a smile as wide as Texas. They’d arranged a second meeting for later in the day.
Discussions had gone well. After the first hour, he’d even stopped mentioning that he’d made a commitment to another party and started actively listening to her proposal. Progress.
She texted Mr. Stein an update—He’s interested and talking—and beamed when the old man’s reply landed minutes later.
I knew you could do this. Great work
His faith in her always kept Kai going. Mr. Stein’s paternal affection and fierce loyalty to her were what made working for Grand Millennium worthwhile. When threats against Scorched Earth had virtually ended her career, he’d offered her a lifeline. A new start in hotels.
She wasn’t naive enough to believe he’d done it out of the goodness of his heart. His motives had been clear: Benjamin Stein despised the Duxtons. And Scorched Earth had been slamming Hotel Duxton for years. But whatever his reasons, he’d provided a soft landing when she’d needed him the most. That included a fresh career, top executive salary, and financial protection from any lawsuits that might threaten.
Mr. Stein might be a hardnosed businessman prone to bouts of paranoia about his rivals, but no one could say a bad word about him to Kai. She’d always love him for what he’d done for her.
I knew you could do this.
Did she dare believe it, too? Her fingers were still tingling at the thought of the deal when she turned into the lobby. And then she saw her. Lia, standing behind the front desk, poised and elegant.
So, she’d actually done it. Taken Kai’s bold suggestion and run with it.
Lia clattered the keyboard keys in front of her like she’d done the job forever. A stern older woman was supervising her. Kai fished about in her head for the other woman’s name. Ah, yes. Mrs. Menzies: loyal to her company, cranky, and not to be approached for bribes.
She was standing far too close to Lia to be polite, issuing snappish commands although Kai couldn’t make out the actual words.
Trying to intimidate her new, temporary employee? Good luck with that.
Sure enough, after a moment, Lia swiveled to face her supervisor, eyed her, and then arched an eyebrow while shooting her a look that said, I have this. Back off.
Mrs. Menzies scooted backward, despite Lia not uttering a single word.
Kai resisted the urge to cheer. That’s my girl!
She frowned at the absurd thought. The hell?
Resuming course to the elevators, Kai forced her mind back to the paperwork she needed for her afternoon meeting with Hamadani.
As the elevator doors began to close, a wicked smile crossed her lips as a new thought hit: Surely, I must need the front desk for something today?
Chapter 8
Front Desk
Manning the front desk was something Amelia had done years ago when she’d been learning the hotel ropes, and few of the basics had changed since.
Yesterday Quinn had arranged through Duxton HQ for “Lia Hanson” to intern around various departments, starting today.
“You’ll have to be careful to maintain your cover,” Quinn had told her. “Won’t Duxton staff think it’s weird one of their own is staying at the hotel?”
“Who’d know that? The assistant manager was barely with it when she checked me in, so I doubt she could pick me out of a line-up today.”
“Okay. Anyway, it’s a good thing you checked into a regular room and not the penthouse suite or that might have made someone on staff notice you.”
“Of course. When I’m assessing a hotel, I need the average guest’s experience.”
“True. But even so, be careful or you’ll stick out like dog’s ears.”
“Your faith in me fills me with confidence. Do you really think me incapable of doing a day each in four different departments without setting off klaxons that I’m not a regular employee? I can fly under the radar.”
“No, boss, you can’t.”
“Oh?” Amelia’s tone cooled. “Why not?”
“Honestly? You give off this vibe that’s impossible to hide. You ooze ‘elite, powerful human,’ with a dash of imperious.”
“I do not!” What elite lifestyle did she have? She owned a luxury one-bedroom apartment overlooking the Thames that suited her to perfection. Everything in its place, everything minimalist. Anything more than she needed would have been wasteful, after all. How was that in any way elite?
“You do—not that there’s anything wrong with that. But I think your cover will be blown in an hour.”
“Ridiculous. I can be incognito. I’ll simply copy those around me.”
“You’ll leak. You’ll order someone to do something without thinking, or correct someone.”
Amelia frowned. “I do know how to let things slide if necessary. I can…fake it.”
Could she? Amelia wasn’t entirely convinced by her words even as she said them.
Kai could do this in her sleep.
Amelia cursed the woman for popping back into her brain. Focus. “Anyway, I’ve been in the service industry my whole life. I will adapt.”
“Your idea of the service industry and mine are a little different. You know Mum worked thirty years as a hotel maid. She’d come home exhausted, with everything aching, while having heard every kind of sexist and racist crap going despite being as British as pork pies. That’s working in the service industry.”
Quinn was right, of course. Amelia’s view was too simplistic. “Well, now’s my chance to learn a few things of which I’m apparently unaware. I’ll become a better hotel manager if nothing else.”
There was a silence. Then: “Mad respect to you, boss. Okay? I mean it.”
“It’s not going to be that bad, is it?”
This time, the silence was even longer. “Just don’t quit, okay?” Quinn said quietly. “Stick it out even when everything hurts. Just remember why you’re doing it.”
Of course. “To become CEO.”
A strangled moan followed. “Um, isn’t it to understand what your employees go through and why they’re quitting?”
“Well, that, too.” Obviously. She sighed.
“Right, so you’re all set.” There was a definite smile in Quinn’s voice as she added, “Just remember not to correct the guests on their maths, even if they don’t carry the two.”
“That was one time,” Amelia muttered.
“Bye, boss.” Laughter sounded. “The supervisor will expect you at the front desk at ten tomorrow. You’ll be doing a mix of check-ins and concierge work.”
And now here she was. Dressed for success, hair in a fist-tight bun, being condescended to by one Mrs. Menzies, who seemed constantly annoyed. The officious woman was probably put out at having some blow-in land in her lap for a day, upsetting her routine. Amelia understood. Routine was important.
“This button brings up the customer names on the upper floors,” Mrs. Menzies was saying. “Floors forty to fifty are the VIP suites. You will be extra polite with those guests.”
Extra polite? All guests should be treated as VIPs. It was one of the most basic rules Amelia drummed into her own employees. Still, she kept her tongue.
“And if they ask for a discount or have a special card, call me over. Some of our regular guests get extras because they’re here so often. All right?”
“Yes,” Amelia said, before remembering she was in the US. “Ma’am,” she tacked on.
Mrs. Menzies’ eyes narrowed, as if she was unsure whether the delay had been deliberate.
“Sorry. Jet lag.”
“Where did you come in from?”
“London.”
Mrs. Menzies’ eyes narrowed even further. “No excuses around here,” she snapped. “Even if you’re from some fancy part of the world, you’re here now. This is America. The customer is always right. No insolence or uppity nonsense will be tolerated.”
Insolence? Uppity nonsense? She gave Mrs. Menzies a withering look.
The supervisor took a step back and looked uncertain. Then she regathered her composure and went in for a new attack. “I’ll be needing you to work overtime tonight. We’re down a staff member due to the flu going around.”
Or them quitting.
Mrs. Menzies’ expression dared her to say no. Amelia nodded.
The phone started ringing.
“Take that call, Ms. Hanson. Let’s see your customer-handling skills.”
The phone was flashing with the internal-call light, and Room 612 appeared in the LED display. Amelia leaned forward and answered. “Concierge desk, Lia speaking, how may I help you?”
“KY Jelly,” came a sultry voice. “Please. I’ve run out and I can’t get it myself. And I simply cannot manage without it.”
KY Jelly. As in… Amelia blinked.
“Also, a whip.”
“A…whip?”
“A flicker whip, to be precise. Mine just met an unfortunate accident.”
“It…did.” She dreaded to think.
There was a muffled sexual moan in the background.
“Can you be quick? The pot is on the boil, if you follow.”
“I don’t believe that’s a service we provide, ma’am.” Amelia called up the Yellow Pages on her screen. “I can direct you to local establishments that could assist with your, er, special requests—”
“You’re new, aren’t you?” The woman purred. “Well, darling, Mrs. Menzies always ensures my needs are catered to because I’m a VIP. Well, I don’t stay in one of the VIP suites—Goddess, what a waste of money—but she treats me as one because I’m such an exceptional, long-term guest.” She drawled out the word exceptional. “So talk to her if you have any questions. Then put my purchases on my account. There’s a dear. I’ll be waiting.” Her voice turned even more sexual. “Monique Carson, six-twelve.”
The phone went dead before Amelia could argue they were in the accommodation business, not a supplier of sex toys.
Mrs. Menzies eyed Amelia’s expression and rising heat. “Room six-twelve, by any chance?”
“Yes.”
“Ms. Carson’s been staying here full-time for over two years. She’s a most valued guest. We’re in the business of fulfilling people’s needs, Ms. Hanson. Guests of certain means or status deserve to have their special requests met if they stay in a high-caliber hotel.” Mrs. Menzies reached under the counter and withdrew a business card with a lurid pink silhouette of a nude woman on it and the name Pleasure Chest. “Ask for Aaron. He knows the drill. His company delivers within the hour.”
“Is this…a common occurrence?” In all Amelia’s years, she couldn’t recall being informed of such requests. Perhaps her staff had never told her?
“One must learn to be adaptable around here.” Mrs. Menzies gave Amelia an arch look before relenting a little. “Although, honestly? It is surprising what happens in Vegas. Besides, Ms. Carson is discreet and has only upmarket clientele, although her particular enterprise does tend to go through supplies somewhat quickly.”
“What is this enterprise?”
Mrs. Menzies’ lips pressed together. “You’ll understand when you deliver them. Make the call.”
Amelia phoned through an order for a flicker whip and KY Jelly to a blasé Pleasure Chest employee named Aaron who promised prompt service.
After she put the phone down and refiled the card under the counter, Mrs. Menzies waved toward an approaching guest. “You’re up.”
Kai was sauntering toward the desk. It was hypnotic watching her, and Amelia realized she wasn’t the only one who thought so. Many guests were swiveling their necks to follow her.
Amelia pondered what she could possibly want. Would Kai blow Amelia’s cover to stir the pot a little? Play games? It wouldn’t surprise her.
As Kai reached the counter, she offered a cocky, slow smile.
I hate cockiness, Amelia reminded herself.
“Good morning, ma’am,” Amelia said. “Can I be of assistance?”
“I don’t know, can you?” Kai replied, eyes dancing. “What is your skill set?”
Amelia sighed. Games it was.
Mrs. Menzies slid an impatient glance at them, then turned to some paperwork.
“I have a wide range of skills. Just ask.”
“I’ll bet.” Kai smirked. She cleared her throat. “I need a new suite. Phone reception in my room is terrible and I’m trying to conduct business. I think it’s in a blind spot.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Amelia said. “Which room number is it?” She knew exactly what room Kai was in, of course, but Mrs. Menzies was standing right there.
Kai’s eyes met hers with considerable amusement. “Four-oh-seven.”
Amelia frowned. Kai had told her four-eleven two days ago. “Are you quite certain, ma’am?” Turning to her keyboard, she tapped in “411,” and sure enough, the name “Kai Fisher” came up.
“Oh, silly me. It might be four-eleven.” Kai smirked.
Amelia gave her a cool, unimpressed look.
Slapping her room key card on the counter, Kai said, “How could I forget?”
With great difficulty, since the number was on the damned key card.
Was she trying to see whether Amelia had memorized her room number? What Kai didn’t seem to grasp was that Amelia couldn’t forget any number if she tried. Kai was hardly special in that regard.
Amelia rattled the computer keys, bringing up the vacant rooms directory. “Room three-oh-three is free and has an adjoining suite which is in your original booking.”
“Yes, I have an assistant.”
“Right.” Amelia plucked the “303” key card off the wall and lay it between them. “This is a corner suite so should be clear of interference.”
“Allegedly clear.” Kai made no move to touch it. “I’d hate to relocate all my things only to find the same problem. Why don’t you take me up there now so we can assess its suitability before I commit?”
Mrs. Menzies glanced at Kai. “I’m due to head over to that side of the hotel now. I could take you there myself, ma’am.” She straightened. “If you’ll step this way.” She reached for the plastic pass.
Kai’s expression lost all amusement, and her hand snatched up the key card first. “I’d prefer it if this employee took me.” She waved at Amelia.
“Why?” Mrs. Menzies asked. Then she seemed to realize she’d forgotten her number-one rule of customer service and said, “Of course, ma’am. Ms. Hanson will assist you.” She waved Amelia away.
Amelia didn’t speak as she led Kai to the elevators.
“Ms. Hanson, huh?” Kai said conversationally.
Amelia chose not to comment.
The crowded elevators prevented any further conversation, which suited Amelia fine. As they stepped out on level three, Amelia took off fast enough to avoid small talk on the way to the room.
She unlocked Room 303 and waited for Kai to catch up and enter.
“I had no idea,” Kai huffed when she reached her.
“About?” Amelia flattened her back to the door to hold it open as Kai entered.
“That you trained under Usain Bolt. Full of surprises there, Ms. Hanson.” Kai brushed past her and their breasts briefly touched as she entered.
