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“Oh my …” My voice trailed off as I took in the space. It was nothing like what I’d expected, and a million miles away from cookie cutter. Goosebumps rose along the back of my neck because it was, well … perfect. They hadn’t tried to turn the place into something different. Instead, they’d brought the Astor Cove back to its former glory, and my breath caught as I took it all in.

“Wow, impressive,” said Cooke. “I can’t wait to see what they’ve done with the kitchen. If they’ve installed a combi oven, I’ll get down on my knees and kiss the feet of the Balfe brothers.”

“Well, that would be very awkward and unnecessary,” I teased as my eyes traced the fully restored grand staircase.

The dark oak wood was shined to a high polish, gleaming like new, the scent of beeswax in the air combined with fresh coffee and baked goods coming from somewhere nearby. Long gone was the wear and tear, the scuffs and dents that had accumulated over the years. The heavy, dark curtains had been removed from the windows and replaced with translucent voiles that were pulled open to allow natural light to flood in. Pretty Victorian-style wallpaper in a pale, olive-green shade covered the walls, while a large Tiffany lamp fixture became the focal point when you looked up.

Lastly, a large Persian rug was the centrepiece, and on it sat an antique table with a pretty vase filled with a colourful bouquet of fresh tulips. In front of the vase was a framed sign in cursive that read Welcome to the Astor Cove, a Balfe Hotel Boutique Experience.

I tried to be bothered by the Balfe add on, but they’d kept the original name, and I couldn’t deny that everything I was seeing so far was unexpectedly wonderful. I started to feel a little more positive, even if I was still wary of working with Tristan.

We headed towards the function room, where a breakfast meet-and-greet was being held to introduce the legacy staff to the new Balfe people. Since everyone was still a little salty over the firings, I wasn’t too sure how it was going to go. I’d had to turn off my notifications in the group chat because of all the bitching that was going on. Normally, a manager wouldn’t be included, but since I’d started out in housekeeping, a lot of the workers still saw me as one of their own. I felt bad about muting the conversation because I knew people just needed to vent, but it had started to give me anxiety.

I adored the Astor Cove, and I just wanted this relaunch to be a success. Like Cooke, I needed to focus on the positives, and once the launch was complete, Tristan should be around a lot less. This reinvention was his brainchild, but he also ran three other hotels with his brother, so he obviously wasn’t going to be here on a daily basis.

“Very nice wall panelling,” Cooke said as we entered the function room. The old flower-patterned wallpaper had been taken down and replaced with stylish Victorian panelling; plus there was new wood flooring to replace the old, well-worn carpet.

“I’m going to go say hello to Samara,” I told Cooke before heading over to my friend. She stood close to the buffet, a bagel with cream cheese and smoked salmon held to her mouth.

“Well?” I asked when I reached her.

She cast her gaze my way, swallowing down a bite of bagel before she replied, “Pleasantly surprised so far. What about you?”

“Same. I’m just worried about this meet-and-greet.”

“Me too. Did you see the group chat last night? Lou was kicking off about his new hours. He used to work thirty-five, but now they’re asking him to do forty.”

“But surely he’s getting a pay increase?”

“Yes, but it means he has to start an hour earlier each day, and the kitchen staff already had a godawfully early start. Supposedly, the breakfast for a five-star hotel takes an hour longer to prepare.”

“Well, that does make sense, especially if they’re offering guests fancier options. Cooke never mentioned the earlier start.”

“That’s because Cooke has your sister to take care of, and he’s probably glad for the extra money. He’s also not a hothead like Lou. I swear, if that boy ever works his way up to head chef, he’ll be the next Gordon Ramsay with his temper.”

I laughed quietly, my gaze going to the doors as a good-looking brunette walked in. She wore a professional navy pantsuit with a pink blouse, her long hair up in an elegant chignon. I glanced down at my plain black top and light brown palazzo pants and decided I was dressed reasonably professionally, too. No need to let the insecure voice in my head take over. The woman was followed by an older lady with a short grey bob, a red-haired man in his forties, a brown-haired guy in a shirt and slacks who looked around late-twenties, and a blonde woman in her fifties. More new faces followed, but there were too many to keep track of. Lastly, the Balfe brothers themselves, Tristan and Derek, appeared.

My eyes instinctively went to Tristan, wandering over his dark grey suit and trim haircut. He was every inch the stylish hotelier, and his brother wasn’t too bad on the eyes either. It had been months since I’d last seen him, and I wasn’t sure how to feel. On the one hand, I was impressed by the respect and care he’d taken with the refurbishment, but on the other, I was still a little salty by how easily he’d gotten his way. Would he be just as ruthless as an employer, or would he be kind and understanding like the teenage boy I’d known? People changed a lot as they grew older, and there was no way to tell what sort of man I was dealing with now.

I also had this burning jealousy that the Astor Cove was his. It had taken time for me to accept that the dream of one day inheriting the hotel was gone, but I’d finally gotten there. I’d realised it was selfish to expect Fred and Nessa to keep the place running, and I knew it was the best choice for them to sell. It was the difference between struggling until the end of their lives and being able to enjoy the years they had left, and I couldn’t resent them for that, even if it meant accepting a new and much less thrilling reality. Besides, Uncle Fred had been right about one thing. I never would’ve had the money to transform the building like the Balfe brothers had.

I forced my gaze away from Tristan, not wishing to be caught looking, and turned to grab something to eat. I picked up a small plate and nabbed a pistachio croissant before I busied myself pouring some coffee, my back turned while Tristan addressed the room.

“Hello, everyone,” he greeted just as I took my first bite and had to hold in a groan before whispering to Samara, “You need to try one of these.”

I must’ve spoken a little louder than a whisper because Tristan’s gaze lifted, a smile in his eyes as he looked my way, my mouth full of croissant and pistachio cream. Tingles scattered across my neck, and self-consciousness had my cheeks flaming as I swallowed down the pastry, now a hard lump in my throat. Tristan turned his attention back to the room. “I see the continental breakfast is going down a treat.”

Everyone gave a good-hearted chuckle, and I turned even redder. Damn, he was charming. Yet another reason to feel salty. Not only did my favourite place in the world now belong to him, but he also got to be naturally handsome and charismatic to boot.

“We’re very pleased to have you all back, and we hope you like what we’ve done with the place.” Those gathered made noises of approval because, clearly, they’d done an amazing job renovating the hotel in such a short period of time. “As you’ll see, we still have some painters and tradespeople about, but as of today, we’re on schedule to reopen in a month’s time.”

There was some clapping and cheerful noises, and I looked around, surprised by the positivity. If Tristan could see the contents of the group chat on my phone, I think he’d be shocked by the bitching that had gone on over the last few months.

Oh, how a free breakfast and a dashingly charming boss worked to change their tunes.

“Starting today, we’ll be dividing you into groups for training,” Tristan went on and motioned for the older woman to step forward alongside the red-haired man. “This is Moira and Blake. They’re going to be working with the kitchen staff, teaching the new menu and prep schedule. Moira has been working for my family’s hotels for the last thirty-five years, and she’s won numerous awards for her dishes during that time. Sadly, she’ll be retiring later this year, but I managed to convince her to come on board and dispense her knowledge one last time at the Astor Cove. Blake is head chef at our Dublin city location, and he’s excited to teach you some of the amazing recipes and techniques he’s perfected during his time with us.”

Everyone gave a clap for Moira and Blake, and Tristan continued introducing the other people who’d arrived with him. There was the brown-haired guy in his twenties, Barry, who would be heading up payroll; Hazel, the blonde woman, who would replace Adelaide as head of housekeeping; Damien, who was to replace Collie in maintenance; and Jenna, who would be running food service. The pretty brunette, Katy, who was a manager in their Cork location, had come to help retrain management, i.e. me, and I finally understood all those who’d been moaning in the group chat. I felt defensive that this woman, who appeared to be about ten years younger than me, was chosen to come and teach me something I supposedly didn’t already know.