This internship was a big step toward the career of my dreams. I wasn’t here for skiing, flirting, or making out in a gym. And most of all, I wasn’t here to let a man I barely knew refer to me as baby girl.
I strode past him and headed for the door, my face burning, my heart still pounding, my entire body aching from the abrupt halt to the erotic sensations.
But I didn’t look back.
8
ZOE
“Mrs. Greer,I was hoping I could show you some ideas I have for the resort’s website.” It was just before eight the next morning, but the prickly manager was already at her desk.
She didn’t even look up from the papers in front of her. “No.”
I blinked. Just... no? No explanation, no “maybe later,” just a flat rejection?
“Okay,” I said, regrouping. “Can we discuss the ski lesson yesterday? Because I had some ideas that might help beginners?—”
“I don’t need advice from a student.”
The words stung more than they should have. I wasn’t trying to give advice. I was trying to do my job. Or whatever this internship was supposed to be.
I took a breath and tried a different approach. “I don’t want to give advice. I want to learn from you.”
Mrs. Greer set down her pen and looked at me over the rim of her glasses. Even sitting, she somehow managed to look down at me. “Then I suggest you listen more than you speak.”
I pressed my lips together and nodded.
She went back to writing on her notepad, taking her time. My impatience crawled under my skin like ants, but I forced myself to stay quiet. To wait. This was a test, and I wasn’t going to fail it.
Finally—finally—she tore off the top sheet and held it out to me.
“Three tasks,” she said. “First, ask the concierge supervisor to show you the VIP arrival packet. Not so you can make suggestions,” she added, her tone sharp. “So you can familiarize yourself with our standards.”
I nodded, taking the paper.
“Second, go to the spa and verify that all service rooms have fresh robes and towels.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Third, check with the Executive Chef to see if the New Year’s Eve menu has been finalized.”
I glanced at the list in my hand. Most of these things could have been handled with an email. But at least she was finally letting me do something.
“I’ll get on this right away,” I said.
She’d already gone back to her paperwork, dismissing me without another word.
I left her office and decided to save the kitchen for last. I wasn’t in any hurry to see Asher. Well—seeing him wasn’t the problem. He was frustratingly attractive. But every time he opened his mouth, it was a huge turnoff.
The concierge supervisor, a polished woman in her forties named Vivian, was more than happy to walk me through the VIP arrival process. I’d worked at hotels before including a very expensive one back in Haverford, but nothing anywhere near as luxurious and as exclusive as The Fraser.
Each VIP guest got a personalized welcome letter on cream-colored cardstock with their name embossed in gold. Their favorite beverages were stocked in their suite before arrival. If they had dietary restrictions, the kitchen was notified weeks in advance. One returning guest always requested white roses in her room. Another insisted on a specific brand of bottled water that had to be shipped from Iceland.
“We anticipate their needs before they know they have them,” Vivian explained, her tone almost reverent.
I took notes, my mind spinning. This was hospitality on a completely different level.
The spa check was straightforward. I walked through each treatment room, verifying that the robeswere pristine, the towels were thick and perfectly folded, and the essential oil diffusers were filled. I noted the various offerings—massages, facials, body wraps, and the sauna that Kai had mentioned yesterday. Everything had to be flawless. One wrinkled robe, one forgotten towel, and a guest paying thousands of dollars for their stay would notice.
