Page 45
“No.”
“I do.” She picks up her bag. “There are at least three men on tonight’s guest list I’ve been trying to get into my office for months.”
I stare at her. “You looked up the guest list?”
“I’m a professional.”
She links her arm through mine, and we step around the shoes scattered across the floor on our way out.
Voss Central is the largest Voss hotel in Alton Hills, and it makes sure you know it. The lobby rises several floors, with pale stone, dark wood, and huge windows. Warm gold lights shine above a long marble desk, and there isn’t a mark or fingerprint anywhere. Even the flowers look expensive, each bloom perfectly open without a bruised petal in sight.
The Grand Ballroom is on the second floor. White-covered tables fill the room, with cream flowers and candles at their centers. A large screen above the stage shows the Alton Hills Hospitality Awards logo. Waiters carry trays of champagne through the crowd while a small band plays near the bar.
A huge gold VOSS logo covers the wall behind the bar. I take it in as Chloe and I enter the ballroom.
“Subtle.”
“You’re in a Voss hotel,” she says. “I don’t think subtle was ever an option.”
Our table is near the middle of the ballroom, which is already an improvement on previous years. Grandma, Granddad, and I were usually seated closer to the back. The Hartwell does plenty of things well, but we’re a small hotel in a city filled with large groups and even larger budgets. They tend to collect most of the awards.
Four people are already at our table. A woman in a silver dress barely looks up as we approach. I recognize Lana Stone, the CEO of Stone Group Hotels. We’ve met twice, and both times she managed to make running a family hotel sound like a hobby.
“Rachel,” she says, glancing at my dress before returning to her phone. “Nice to see you.”
She puts just enough emphasis on nice to irritate me.
The man beside her stands at once. He’s tall, somewhere in his late thirties, with dark blond hair and an easy smile. His tuxedo fits him well, and unlike Lana, he seems pleased to meet us.
“Oliver Shaw.” He holds out his hand. “Operations director at the Westbury.”
“Rachel Hartwell.”
“I know.” His smile grows as we shake hands. “I saw you on television this week.”
Oh.
“Not one of my finest moments.”
“I thought you made a strong case.”
That earns him several points. “This is my friend Chloe Baxter.”
Oliver offers Chloe his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too.” She shakes it, then gives me a quick look with one brow raised.
I know what that means. Single? Attractive? Possible solution to your nine-month problem?
I answer with the smallest shrug. Maybe.
Oliver introduces the other two guests, Ben, a finance director for another hotel group, and Priya, who runs guest experience for one of the larger hotels downtown. Priya asks me about the Hartwell, and I turn to answer her.
While we’re talking, Chloe leans closer to Oliver and says something I can’t hear.
Within a few minutes, we all have champagne and the conversation turns to the awards. Oliver takes the seat beside mine, and Chloe looks far too pleased with herself when he does.
Half an hour later, the awards are underway, though I’ve barely followed them. A hotel in North Alton won Best New Restaurant, and Voss Park received an award for guest experience. Beyond that, Oliver’s quiet comments about the people crossing the stage have kept me distracted.
